The Hell Within
by Kazamigorical
Summary: Sam's had his soul back for 8 months, but what does he remember, how does he feel and what about that itch? Dean doesn't know much, but he knows he has to be there. He's the only person Sam has left. Warning: Self Harm, Can get pretty dark (Started after S6 and prior to S7. :) )
1. Chapter 1

_**Hellooo! I know I am working on another story but I was on vacation and late at night, I found my way to this. I'm not forgetting "Completely Incomplete" and even though this is a combination of similarities to my others, I just thought I would post it instead of sit on it. Thanks for reading! **_

**Warning: Self-harm.**

**Chapter 1**

Sometimes Sam Winchester figured he wasn't cut out for this world. Or more to the point; this world wasn't cut out for him. He didn't fit anywhere. Not really human and not a fully fledged monster either...Hopefully. Just something in between.

He wanted to be more like his older brother. All through everything, Dean remained human. Granted, as a baby no evil demon blood entered his mouth and maybe the Yellow-Eyed Demon never targeted him as he did Sam, but he _was _a chosen one. Chosen to destroy the world right alongside his evil younger brother. Only while Sam gave in and shifted into darkness, Dean never did.

And when it came down to it, Sam was the only one who said the big 'Yes.'

It didn't matter to Sam how close Dean came, how he had every intention of consenting to Michael. Even went about writing letters, packing up his belongings in a cardboard box and offering some last goodbyes...because it never happened. Sam sat for a while and pondered why. Was it really because Dean didn't want to let his brother down or was it just because it was simply Sam's destiny to be nothing more and nothing less than the ultimate evil; Lucifer.

Either way, Sam Winchester was not proud of himself. Who he was and who he had become regardless of his sacrifice was someone he hated, despised even. If he could climb out of his mind, body and soul he would. Leave it all behind smushed on the pavement and happily crawl into a dark, hidden corner somewhere nearby so he could watch as passerbys stomped all over his remnants.

At times when he realised that wasn't possible he would crave death. If only death could mean nothingness, he'd take that too. Willingly. He didn't want heaven, hell or purgatory; just complete and pure nothingness.

He was a contradiction, Sam Winchester was.

Because most nights once his brother found his way to sleep he would sit in the dark under the covers and scratch at his arms and thighs until they bled. Feel the liquid warmth trickle down his skin and take comfort in the pain. If Dean knew, he'd literally freak so he took extra special care not to let any blood drip onto the white scratchy sheets. On the many occasions he failed that mission too, instead of scrubbing them clean, the constant presence of his brother gave him no choice but to make the bed with rapid roughness and sleep in the stained linen until they moved onto the next place.

Disgusting.

But then Sam Winchester disgusted himself daily.

Yet the only thing paining him about his newly formed scars was not his wounds. What sent regret waves through his every pore when he woke with his own dried skin stuck thick under his fingernails was the thought of Dean spotting them.

Dean had questioned his younger brother on his recent obsession for the need of intense privacy. Even yelled the crap out of him when Sam almost tore off his arm by ripping the bathroom door out of his grasp after a shower. But when Dean put it down to it being a side effect from hell, much to Sam's horror, he took the easy way out and let him believe so. He just didn't see another choice.

He made himself sick.

'You ready?' Dean asked clutching his keys and giving him one of his mischievous smiles. He really did enjoy killing evil sons of bitches, especially when this evil son of a bitch was haunting none other than their angel friend, Castiel.

'Yeah.' Sam nodded pulling on his jacket. Before a job, he'd often find himself hot with anxiety and automatically turn to roll up his sleeves. So far, as if by some miracle, Dean was yet to spot a single scar but Sam knew that wasn't out of luck. He had to be careful. When it came to him; miracles just did not happen.

'Leave your jacket dude.' Dean said, seriously considering tearing off his own t-shirt before he slinked into the Impala. 'It's never been so freaking hot.'

It was yet to be proven these recent temperatures were not the hottest they'd suffered through. _Typical_, Sam thought. The one time he really needed it to be jacket weather, it was hitting record highs. Maybe a job in Australia would come up next. It was winter there. 'This is cold compared to where we've been.' He joked already feeling plenty of sweat spots erupting. One of those concerned big brother looks smacked his eyes away. His joke was lame; wrong even...using hell to be funny. Hell wasn't funny. Nothing about hell was funny.

So he changed the subject. 'I still don't get why Cas can't just flick this thing into oblivion with a swipe of his hand.'

'Me either…Him either.' Dean chuckled. 'That's what makes it so damn hilarious.'

Sam faked a laugh. The thought of Cas running around with some random ghost chasing his tail might sound amusing to Dean but it seemed ludicrous to him. Still who was he to start with the sanctimonious crap? Since when was he ever right - about anything? A big fat 'never' so he shut his mouth and waited for his still giggling brother to start walking.

'You're sweet with doing this right?' Dean stopped mid-step causing Sam to do the same.

'Yeah of course.' He replied motioning for Dean to take the lead out the door. No way known was he ever going to do that again. He'd finally learnt his place was to follow; especially when it came to his brother. Follow, listen and obey. Just like he should have done all his life. Following himself, his own gut instinct never paved the way to greatness. For anyone.

'So we go salt and burn the bones and then call Cas. See if this thing really is old Jackson.'

Why Cas couldn't salt and burn the bones himself, Sam had no idea. Would probably take less than a second the way that angel could flash around and get things done, but Sam didn't question it. Dean had discussed this with his friend. They had a plan, this was the plan. Sam was along to help. Case closed.

Dean laughed to himself again and shook his head while he unlocked Sam's side of the car before moving around to his own. The babying didn't worry the younger Winchester anymore. He was sick of fighting it. Dean knew best, Dean had suffered enough so Dean got his way. Simple as that.

'Long drive. I'm pumping Seger.' Seger drowned out the roar of the Impala and messed with Sam's head. He was no classic rock fan and that kind of music made his mind fill with less than desirable thoughts, but Dean loved it and it was kind of awesome hearing him sing along and see an occasional smile shot his way.

It kind of chipped away a little of this new hurt anyway. Not more than two hours ago Sam caught the tail end of one of Dean's secret calls to Bobby. He was supposed to be at the store picking up some milk and bread but it was Sunday and in this small town, stores were closed on Sundays. Once that become apparent, he considered taking an aimless drive around the area just to pass some time but changed his mind at the last second and took the left into the gravel street leading to their secluded motel.

If only he hadn't. And if only he didn't lurk around the motel door and listen in on his brother's side of the conversation.

Yet again and not surprisingly, Dean was trying to force the point of reconciliation onto the man. Same as he'd been doing for close to eight months now. Sam wished he wouldn't. His brother was always trying to fix the unfixable. This was a lost cause. It wasn't like Sam was happy being cast out. He missed Bobby so much it hurt, but Bobby had every reason to disown him. It was the least he deserved.

And Bobby had explained it to him nice enough too. One on one, over his kitchen table and it made sense. He saw Sam as a son, treated him like a son and loved him like a son. Yet this 'son' set out to slaughter him.

The horror of that night shot him to pieces, sent him reeling to the point of no return. He had tried, for weeks, he really had but nothing he or Sam could do would change it. And in the end he felt he had to go ahead and do the one thing he said he never would and cut Sam out. He hoped he understood. It wasn't because he didn't love him. It was because he couldn't trust him. Soul or not, intellectually he just could not trust him.

Sam understood.

Dean didn't.

Dean thought the man was being a stubborn old coot. And told him so. Repeatedly. Only to receive the same answer. Bobby Singer could forgive a lot, but he could not forgive that.

Dean was worried. The younger Winchester needed someone other than himself and an angel who wasn't the best at communication. Sam hardly bothered even attempting to make small talk with Cas anymore. He had withdrawn even further into himself, trusted no one except Dean and seemed to be falling into an enormous, black hole of apathy.

And if there was one thing Dean Winchester could not take from his brother, it was him not caring. That wasn't his brother. His brother Sam cared about everything. That was his brother. And even though when soul returned so did compassion and thoughtfulness, as time left them, so did his self worth and importance. Bobby was sorry for that, reiterated he still loved the kid, but just couldn't face him. That, he told Dean, just wasn't going to change.

Sam hated catching any part of these phone calls. It made him want to scream. But he never did. Instead he would hang back behind the door or in a corner, unable to pry himself away, until Dean gave in and disconnected. Never once letting on he'd heard a thing.

The aftermath was hard to take for both boys. For Dean, Bobby not wanting to have any contact with his brother was almost unbearable and while he had been strict with keeping a lid on his increasing feelings of frustration and resentment with the man it was becoming more and more difficult. For Sam, Bobby's rejections were a stab to the heart - every damn time. It was just better if he didn't hear a second of either side of the conversation. Just better not to know.

Back in the Impala, Sam might not have made out the words Dean spoke over the music but the blurred mumble of his voice stirred him awake. Much to his dismay he still felt the lead ball weighing heavily in his stomach before he turned to his brother and said a confused and sleepy: 'Sorry?'

Dean turned down the stereo. The Bob Segar cassette tilted sideways on the console. Some other song from some other band played now. It sounded familiar but Sam couldn't place it at such a low volume. 'We're here.' Dean repeated with a smile.

Instead of speaking, Sam spun his head around surprised to set eyes on the mass of grave beds laying flat on the field to his right. This was one of those grey, dull cemeteries only occasionally punctuated with spurts of color from small flower bouquets placed by people who still made the effort to care. He must have been asleep for hours instead of minutes. It aggravated him how crap his company was lately. Maybe Cas should have taken the trip with Dean. Would at least be more fun for him.

Sam unclipped his seat belt and made a move to open the door.

'Hold up. You need to wake up first. Here...' Dean reached behind the passenger seat and pulled out a cold can of Coke from a cooler filled with ice. Dean always remembered this kind of stuff, always had what they needed on tap… unless he didn't. But even then he knew what to do to get it. Sam admired him. He was useless at thinking two minutes into the future now. 'Drink this. Caffeine hit.'

'Thanks.' The fizziness tickled and closed his throat as he gulped it down but the coldness was refreshing. Dean was right; he needed a quick hit; his eyes were still threatening to close. Conscious not to drink it all so Dean could take the dregs, he was both relieved and disappointed when his brother shook his head and told him to finish it.

'You can go back to sleep if you want.' Dean said as Sam attempted to conceal a yawn. 'Simple salt and burn. I can get this one.'

Since when had anything ever been simple? No. Knowing his luck, this would be one of those times when things went awry. If anything happened to Dean while Sam was selfishly sleeping...

'I'm fine.' Again Sam reached for the door handle. Dean's voice stopped him for a second time. 'Why so tired?'

_Oh I was too busy drawing blood all night. Want to see? _

No the truth wasn't always an option.

'I'm not anymore.' He did his best to impersonate someone with a genuine smile and this time succeeded in opeing the door. With stiff legs he stepped onto the grass and without thinking and no run up, attempted to jump the waist-height fence. Not the greatest of ideas. Instead of making it over with ease, he felt the pull of material against sharp steel and heard the shred of jacket just as he landed with a thump...right onto a freshly twisted ankle.

(TBC)

**_Not really a cliffy but Chapter 1 turned out to be way too long so I had to split in half. Amazing how much you can ramble when you don't have a word count on hand and the power goes out for hours. :)_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here is part 2 of Chapter 1. Notice I'm calling it Chapter 2. Makes more sense that way ;) **_

**Chapter 2**

Damnit to hell! Couldn't he do anything right? Anything?

Dean was onto him quicker than a burst of welcome pain shot through his body. Torn ligaments at least. In a way he was looking forward to standing on it, just to see how much it hurt, but the lightheadedness and darkness threatening to overwhelm him wasn't making standing up very possible at all. Just as he was about to give into the dizziness and float away, he caught a quick glimpse of his latest cut peeking through the bottom of his scrunched shirt sleeve. Simultaneously, he felt Dean undo his shoe, peel off his sock and push up his jeans, murmuring something about his ankle being broken.

Where was his jacket? Ignoring the intense heat of the day, he spun his head around and spotted it lying within reach, albeit ripped on one side. Still wearable though.

He forgot to think about how it would look to Dean. Why someone would be so desperate to put on a torn jacket in the middle of a blistering summer day. Without thinking of anything other than his dark secret, he snatched it from the dried, golden grass and tried his best to stay conscious until he could get it on.

'Sam, leave your jacket off. It's frickin boiling hot. What the hell?' Sam heard his brother as clear as day. Somehow the adrenalin rush of the missing jacket brought him back from the center of faintness. 'I said leave it off!'

'I'm okay.' Sam said distracting Dean by ripping his foot from his grasp and attempting to stand upright. Damn it was scorching hot and this jacket wasn't going on as easy as it should. Arms were getting tangled around material and the effort alone was frustrating him to the edge of insanity.

'We need to ice your foot. Sit down and stay still.'

That could work too; Dean giving him twenty seconds alone time to straighten himself out and deal with this searing pain. He crashed back down on the grass and noticed his brother's astonished shake of his head. He wasn't playing this right but it was hard to think. As long as he had his jacket on though and jeans covering down to his knee, it would be alright.

'You good for a second?' Dean asked. 'Just gonna get some ice okay?'

'Mmn.'

Sam let out a sigh of relief thinking he was off the hook when Dean took his first step, but his brother's next words deflated any raised hope. 'Seriously, leave your jacket off. I'm gonna rip it up and use it as a bandage. It's ruined now anyway.'

Probably best just to go with it. Hopefully he had enough time to ensure both his shirt sleeves were firmly down and in place. As long as he kept on top of it, as long as his mind didn't wander like it sometimes did, there was no reason for Dean to see any scratches. He hated this, hated hiding something else from Dean. Always seemed to be hiding something. Always carrying some unspeakable secret around with him.

Why did he do these things?

Every single day he would promise himself never again. No more ripping and tearing at his skin. No matter how great the urge in the dark hours of the night became. No matter what thoughts stabbed through his brain. It was weird and shameful and he didn't even understand why he did it. But the times he couldn't sleep, before he could even begin to talk himself out of it, were the times he scratched at himself until he felt the first spurt of blood. From then on, there was no going back.

'You are sweating up a storm buddy.'

'I'm fine.' Sam didn't bother twisting his neck to look at Dean's re-emergence, just threw his jacket next to him and found his other hand clamping down on his swelling ankle. 'I've got it. You just go deal with the job.' He might have half-reached up an arm and hoped for Dean to shove the ice in his hand but he knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking. When Dean simply sat down and went to work on knifing the jacket, wrapping the ice and laying it on his ankle, Sam was not in the least bit surprised.

'You know there was an opening down the way a bit.' Dean nodded in the direction of the unlocked gates only five or six car parks away.

'Oh. Sorry.' Sam apologized, silently berating himself for being such an idiot.

'Don't be sorry. Just look around okay? You know how it goes. Stupid moves...'

'Means stupid mistakes. I know.'

Sam's ankle was already swelling to holy hell. A handful of rapidly melting ice and a cut up jacket wasn't going to help it enough. They needed to get back to the motel...or the closest hospital.

'Does it feel broken?' Dean asked him peering at the inflated mound carefully.

'No. Just torn.'

'I'm gonna check. Just like we used to okay?' Dean grabbed hold of Sam's leg motioning him to brace himself. Sam did so without complaint. This didn't shock Dean. Sam always did everything without complaint now.

From what Dean could tell no bones were broken but the material on Sam's jacket was too thick; that was obvious. The make-shift ice-pack was no way near cold enough and it wasn't doing the job. Dean had appeased Sam long enough. Sure the kid had become self-conscious of his body to the point of delusion over the past few months, but it was time to get this shirt off and use the cotton for both the ice and the bandage. Anyway, he had a t-shirt on underneath. What was anyone going to see?

'Take your shirt off.'

Sam's eyes bulged at the mere words. This automatically sent Dean's eyes rolling; but not intentionally. He was forever checking himself, trying to be sensitive to all of his brother's new needs and issues, but this was getting to be too much. It was damn burning hot out here, his ankle had to be treated and they needed to get him back to the car.

'I'm fine.' Sam said again when Dean nodded for him to hurry it up, holding out his hand in preparation.

'Sam if I had one, I would use mine but I don't and there is no other option. You have to take it off so we can use it.'

'But I'm fine.' Sam repeated doing his best to stand up again. Ignoring the pain was easier than ignoring Dean's face transform from impatience to anger. Frantically Sam's eyes darted around and landed on his good foot. 'My socks!' he blurted in satisfaction. 'We can use my socks!'

'That's just gross.'

'But it will work.' Sam smiled.

With a glare intense enough to make anyone back down, Sam stood strong. Dean took up the challenge right then and there. That shirt was coming off today and he was going to find out exactly what his brother was hiding. Sam arguing anything lately meant something big and thinking back, this was the only issue that caused any kind of fight back from his brother. Obviously something was amiss and the only thing he could think of was a delayed scar or injury from the soul's return. If so, he wanted to check it out so he could get it healed and more importantly, see if it needed to be. This paranoia was a worry. A God-damned worry.

'We're not using any sweaty socks. I need your shirt. Take it off.'

'What about my t-shirt? At least it's stretchy?'

'Okay, sure, take them both off. We'll see which one works best.' Dean played along already knowing this would be met with another refusal.

'The t-shirt will.'

'So hand it over then.'

Sam's eyebrows knitted together. 'Well, can you give me a minute?'

'Dude,' His patience was wearing thin. He took a breath to calm himself. 'We're brothers. I've seen you without any clothes on a million times. Hell, I used to have to shower you myself when we were kids…'

'Okay!' Sam interrupted. 'Jeez. Just stop right there.'

Dean on instinct completed a full head check positive by Sam's reaction someone was within hearing distance. There was no one; they were alone. His eyes shot down to asses Sam's ankle before looking back at him. 'The shirt, the t-shirt, whatever. Just give me one.'

'We can use yours.'

'You know what? Fine. It's so frickin hot out here, I can't even argue right now.' He ripped off his t-shirt and carved into it before Sam could say another word. The car being so close assured Sam he could reach it without any stupid ice-pack. The last thing he could look at now was his brother's flawless back, chest and arms completely out in the open where if anyone saw him; they would be impressed rather than repulsed.

Even the bathroom mirror was Sam's enemy now, threatening to reveal the mass of frenzied red slashes in one sight. Sometimes he turned the light off as he dressed to ensure he wouldn't even catch a glimpse at his reflection…and more importantly, so Dean wouldn't see him via any lit slit through the door frame. The last thing he needed on this day after the reminder that Bobby couldn't stand to be around him was confirmation on how screwed up he was and how perfect a brother he had.

Not Dean's fault; Dean was the normal one. He didn't dig into himself until he bled or throw everyone to the wall. No wonder people liked him better.

Sam liked him better.

Rage was burning within him and he remembered this feeling; where pretty soon all control would be lost. Glancing past Dean steady at work fixing another one of his messes was all but causing his tainted blood to boil. Without a word he limped towards the Impala, feeling dry and rough straw between his toes. Good, he could walk on it. At least the burden of being him would lessen once he got to the passenger seat.

'So I'm ripping this up for nothing am I?' Dean called after him, relieved his brother could walk but furious at the stubborn attitude he was copping. He hadn't encountered it in a long time and he certainly hadn't missed it. 'God-dammit Sam…' He rushed to pick up all their belongings and raced after him. The car might have only been a few feet away but thankfully, he was easy to catch.

'I'm fine.'

'You said that a hundred times, but you're not.' Dean opened the back door, threw all items aggressively in the now water–filled cooler and helped his frazzled brother into his seat. Man the car was stifling. Even without a shirt on, Dean was struggling. He had no idea how Sam, the one who was barely able to cope with heat half this temperature was handling it. 'Maybe we should check into a motel here tonight.' Dean announced to himself as he plucked the longest piece of material from the water and wrapped it around Sam's ankle.

'I'm fine. Just go salt and burn the bones and then we can go back to ours.'

'I'm not leaving you in this car in this heat. Don't be stupid.'

Once Dean was satisfied the ankle was somewhat bandaged in position; he tugged the seat belt down for his brother, waited for Sam to click himself in then closed both front and back door behind him. This town was not as small as the other, but finding a motel with vacancies could be a problem. He didn't remember driving past a single one which meant they'd either have to search or research. And it was too hot to do either. So much for a simple in and out. Why couldn't anything ever just be simple?

So damn hot. He needed to drive with the windows wound down so he could actually breathe.

Before he took off, he reached back and yanked another two pieces of soaked material from the tub. Wringing one out over his brother's head caused Sam to blink wildly as water dripped into his eyes but it didn't invoke any argument. Now that he was back in the car, fully clothed and on his way to somewhere else, his heart slowed, his breathing returned to normal and he felt content concentrating on the pain of his injury rather than the fear of being exposed.

Dean noticed the water wasn't as cold as he had hoped when he placed his bit of material around his neck and squeezed, but as it dribbled down his chest and back it cooled him a little. Pity it didn't chill his mood. Attempts at keeping his eyes on the road rather than his brother's shirt-covered chest were failing and if not for Sam's gasp when the only Godforsaken car on the road almost collided with them, they would be adding contacting tow trucks and insurance companies to their list of things to do.

'God it's so hot!' Dean complained once again, flicking the fan on full and making sure both of them had vents blowing onto their bodies. His brother's sweat-soaked shirt and beet red face caught his eye. 'Look at you. You are dripping wet Sam.'

'I'm fine.' Sam lied again, but this time even he heard how unconvincing he sounded. After shutting his eyes to pull himself together and get his bearings back, he strived to say the words again, but no sound would leave his mouth, no words would form. And when he opened his eyes to look at his brother for help, all he could see standing in front of him was none other than Lucifer himself.

(tbc)

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, read and added Chapter 1 to their alerts and favorites. I submitted at an unusual time and hardly expected anyone to find it. **

**Thank you to the people who do / did any of those things for this chapter too. Very much appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

'Hello Sam.' Lucifer greeted sweetly. He stood at the rear of an empty, black and circular room, leaning against a pale pink door. Splashes of color hit every mid point of the outer circle. Four doors in total; all coated a different shade of paint, all equally distanced. Sam took a step to the right to move from the dead center and forced his eyes to meet the devil's.

The devil wore so many faces, but thanks to small mercies, this one resembled the individual he and his brother first met. No more was he a mirror image of Sam and much to Sam's sheer relief, no longer did he hold the true form of the hideous beast he encountered down in the cage. Once again he appeared as a man who looked a lot like other men. A man dressed modestly in blue jeans and a grey shirt.

A man who had his life taken from him too.

Thanks to Sam.

'Dean!' He was calling his brother's name before he even felt the first pang of panic overtake him.

'You okay?' Dean's voice rang through Sam's ears. His head whirled from left to right to locate him.

'He's not here.' Lucifer chuckled calmly. 'We're alone. For now.'

Sam scrutinized the room desperately searching for a way out. He had to break free and quick. If he thought he was burning hot before, just standing there in the presence of the devil was pushing him to the brink of suffocation. And it had nothing to do with the temperature.

The deep purple door to his right seemed to be the closest. He decided the risk was worth taking. Lucifer was all about setting traps but he knew if he didn't try, he may never be able to leave.

'Uh uh uh.' Sang Lucifer's voice. 'Don't go ruining the game Sam.'

'I don't want another game.' Sam muttered as he dashed towards the door not realizing his two ankles worked perfectly in this alternate dimension.

'That's a shame.' Suddenly the room widened and the door slid away from him. He stopped and Lucifer continued. 'So, here's how it works.'

'No more games.' Sam sighed in misery. 'Please.'

'You're going to pick a door.' Lucifer informed him. 'Sound like fun? They're all pretty doors don't you think? I handpicked the colors myself.'

'This isn't real.' Sam closed his eyes reminding himself he was out of hell, this was just a dream and if he tried hard enough he could climb his way out. He'd done it before.

'So, take a good look at the doors Sam. Each has a name on it.'

Sam refused to look, refused to open his eyes, but both the name plates and the doors appeared in his mind regardless.

Even when you beat the devil, you can't really ever beat the devil.

'Choose someone.' Lucifer told him. 'Choose the person you most want to see right now.'

'Dean.' Sam said without hesitation.

The sarcastic snort was all too familiar. 'Dean's not dead.' A click of his fingers flicked Sam's eyes open. 'You have to play by the rules Sam. Choose a name you see. A dead person you want to meet again.'

Sam glanced at the first name and frowned. 'Bobby's not dead.'

'Hey,' Lucifer waved a casual hand, 'We're giving or taking a few months here. No biggie. Now...' His expression became rigid and authoritarian. 'Choose a name.'

Attempting to swallow and inhaling the deepest breath he could muster, Sam concentrated hard on all the names printed in thick, black text framed on silver backgrounds. 'John Winchester' labeled the pink door, the vibrant yellow door to his left was tagged with 'Mary Winchester', Bobby's door was the purple one and the red door behind him held the name: 'Jessica Moore.'

'What's going to happen?' Sam asked him before saying the name.

'You're going to get a few seconds with them.' He sighed at Sam's apprehension and gave him a compassionate smile. 'You misjudge me Sam. This is all for fun.' His smile disappeared. 'Choose a name.'

'Dean!' Sam called again.

'Sam?' He could hear his brother's voice as if he was standing right next to him.

'Don't get me angry Sam. You don't want to do that.' Lucifer said evenly. 'Within a second I can place your brother's name on a nice brown door just to your right.'

Killing Dean would be child's play to this viscious creature and Sam could tell beyond any doubt he was serious. So he straightened his back, held his head high and stated the name of the person he most wanted to see. 'John Winchester.'

'Great choice!' Lucifer beamed. 'I was hoping you would pick good old dad!'

In a flash, Lucifer disappeared and nothing but open space stood between Sam and the pink door. As soon as it opened, he made out his father's silhouette. Nothing good was going to come from this; it wasn't Lucifer's way - so he braced himself and felt the air leave his lungs.

John Winchester stepped out; exactly as Sam remembered him on the day of his death. Even down to the very same clothes. He wished Dean was here so they could hug.

And he could fade into the background.

'Sam.' There was no smile, no happiness, no joy. Anything Sam could see, he couldn't read so he waited for his father's next words while his heart froze. 'Why did you pick me?' John asked him.

'I know what you're going to say.' While that was truth in part, he omitted the main reasons. He yearned to see his father one last time, grab hold of these mere seconds, let him know he was sorry, tell him how much he loved him and get the chance to say goodbye.

'What's that?'

'You wish I was never born.'

John hesitated as if the words were difficult to say. 'If we had've known…'

'You would have stopped at one.' Sam finished for him.

'We would have stopped at one.' John confirmed sympathetically.

Sam blinked back tears. He was only just controlling the urge to vomit all over the place.

'I'm sorry.' John said. 'We tried to stop it. Your brother tried to stop you-'

'I know.'

He gave his son a shrug. 'Maybe you should have picked your mother.'

Sam nodded and looked away. A burst of a different color drew his sight back to the centre of the room. In his father's place stood Lucifer again, the yellow door now behind him, the pink one spun around to his right. 'I don't want to...' Sam flinched seeing his mother's name spelt out in front of him.

'So then…Jessica?' Lucifer offered with excitement, whirling the red door around.

'No one! Just…' Sam backed away. 'Just leave me alone. Please.'

'I'm pretty sure I'd like to hear what Bobby has to say.' Lucifer smirked. 'From father to…father. Let's see shall we?'

'I can't…' Without another word, Sam shut his eyes again desperate to wake himself up. How did he do it all those other times? Why couldn't he remember?

'Sam, sit down.' When he heard Dean's words in his head he instinctively sat down on the cold, hard surface hoping to God his wish would be granted and he'd be back in the passenger seat of the Impala with his brother by the time he re-opened them.

Much to his despair, when he glanced back up, an angry Bobby glared down at him, the purple door wavering slightly in a delicate but faux breeze.

'You aren't dead. This isn't real.'

'Maybe it's all about what you wish for.' Bobby spat at him.

'I don't wish you were dead.'

'The axe and knife you tried to use on me suggests otherwise boy.' Sam pulled his knees towards his chest and buried his head in his arms. He needed to think. Needed not to hear what Bobby said next. Just had to work out how to get out of there and back with his brother; who would save him from all this.

'I don't even know why I'm here.' Bobby snarled. 'It's not like I ever wanted to see you again.' Sam heard him huff. 'And something else I don't get; why Dean sticks with you. I don't know how he can stand it. He's not safe with you. You're a murderer. Nothing but a cold-blooded killer.'

After a few moments of clear silence, Lucifer spoke. 'Not having much luck are you?' Sam assumed his return signified Bobby's departure. 'So many daddys not happy with little Sammy. Been a naughty boy have we? Tsk tsk tsk' Sam hated this thing, hated him with a passion. 'So, how about your other father figure then? The good little soldier who chose to give his life and go to hell for you?'

Sam's head snapped up in horror. 'You leave him alone! Don't you dare touch him!'

Much to his incensed terror, a brown door took the place of the purple and the devil let out another vile laugh.

'Sam, you know….' He said clasping his hands in front of his chin, 'I just…I really want to see Dean's face when he's being sliced and diced. I missed all that delicious action when he was down in the pit.' His smirk grew in delight. 'Let's watch him relive it. Just for entertainment sake. What do you say?'

'I say I will kill you!'

'Sam!' Dean's scream shrilled through Sam's mind. His first reaction was to shoot a look at the door, but when Lucifer frowned and the door remained closed, Sam smiled. It was working. Dean was saving them.

'This isn't real.' Sam repeated the three words proudly as he stood up.

'Oh but it is. You see…' Lucifer's smug confidence returned. 'Reality is so much harder to deal with than fiction…So…' He shook his head in mock confusion…' why would I make this up?' He waited a moment for Sam to reply but when no response was forthcoming; he clapped his hands together and exclaimed: 'Now, let's kill Dean and watch him suffer, shall we?'

Just as Lucifer placed a hand on the door handle and chuckled with malice, Sam slammed his eyelids shut, yelled his brother's name in one bloodcurdling scream and dug his fingernails deep into his forearms.

'Sammy!' He heard Dean's voice before he drew blood, felt his brother's hands clutching hold of his biceps and heard his breathing as if he was less than an inch away.

'I'm so sorry.' Sam let out a sob and vowed never to open his eyes again. This was it. The end. If Dean was dead, killed and tortured by the devil - just to mess with his mind, he was taking himself out too. As soon as he could get to a weapon. As soon as he could get out of this room.

'For what? Sam, look at me.' Dean ordered.

'No.' He told his brother. 'I can't.' Maybe if he couldn't see, Lucifer wouldn't start in on the torture.

'Let go of your arms.' Dean's voice sounded kind and Sam wondered if there was anything his brother wouldn't forgive him for. 'Sam, you are freaking me out.'

Finally Sam found the courage to unstick his lashes but only after he felt his fingers being pried from his shirt sleeves. No black walls surrounded them, no brown door in sight; just Dean crouched in front of him in what seemed to be a motel room he'd never been in before. They'd done it. They'd climbed out of another one of his weird dreams.

Thank God.

'You're okay.' Sam sighed in pure relief.

'Are you?' Dean frowned only then letting go of his brother's relaxing fingers.

'Yeah, just another nightmare.' He sat back, felt the wonderful pain in his raised ankle and leant against the bedhead with a smile.

'A nightmare?' Dean's frown remained.

'A dream. Whatever.'

'Sam,' Dean swallowed, 'you haven't been asleep.'

After a single blink and shudder, Sam tilted his head. 'What?'

'You've just been slipping in and out of …something. Like…' Dean was trying to find the right words. 'We checked in here. I mean, you walked in, sat on the bed. We've been talking, you had a drink of water, yet sometimes…it's like you were somewhere else.'

'I don't remember any of that.' He looked at Dean. 'None of it.' The horror in his voice reflected the horror in his throat. 'What's happening to me?'

'I don't know.' Dean choked, feeling the blood drain from his face for the hundredth time in the last half hour.

'Dean-' Sam grabbed hold of his brother's arm and shrieked. 'Bobby! He said Bobby was going to die within a few months. We have to help him!'

'What? Who did?'

'Lucifer.'

'Lu..?' Dean's jaw dropped and a thought struck him. A thought he hoped never to confront. Ever. 'Sam, listen to me…' He moved his brother's legs gently aside and sat himself on the side of the bed. 'Think about this and tell me the truth okay? I won't get mad, I promise.'

'What?' Sam felt another shock wave shoot through him. Dean looked scared. Really, really scared.

'Have you been scratching?'

'What?' Sam almost passed out. 'No. What?'

'The wall. Look I know we don't even know what that means, but this is important and you have to think hard about it.' Dean shifted his weight and cleared his throat. 'Death said the wall was going to itch, you remember that?' Sam nodded. Dean continued. 'I know we haven't really spoken about it. I didn't want to push on any crack, but…Something's going on here ... '

Dean noticed the instant and immense shaking of Sam's hands and body.

'What's going on Sam?'

'I...'

'You what?' Dean resisted the urge to close his own eyes, not at all looking forward to this answer.

'I haven't been scratching at any wall.'

'Okay. That's good.' Dean said supportively but knowing this wasn't the end of it. 'I won't get mad, I swear.'

'But I have been scratching.' Sam couldn't believe he was coming clean. He knew he wasn't going to hold Dean failing in his promise to not get angry against him and hoped the same for his brother. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers and felt the slow burn rise in his ashamed face. This was beyond humiliating, mortifying and horrifying but what was worse was the fear of the wall breaking down. And if there was any an occasion that called for cold, hard and brutal honesty, it was then. Just in case there was time and a chance to save his brother from any more loss.

Sam watched Dean as the shirt fell from his back and his mutilated arms were revealed.

(tbc)


	4. Chapter 4

_**From too much too soon, to a delay. (Sorry Shadow!).**_

_**Thank you for the reviews you awesome people! **_

**Chapter 4**

Dean Winchester resisted ripping the skin from his face. The fingers gripping too tightly were his own. He ignored the irony. It was instinct after all. Shoot a hand over his mouth and stop breathing.

'Dean, say something.' Sam sat just as motionless watching the pale pink and white blotches blemish his brother's cheeks. 'Please?'

He thought he caught a flicker of Dean's face twitch in an attempt to speak but upon hearing no sound, slumped back a bit more into himself. Seeing his brother this horror-struck didn't surprise him but it did worry him.

'It looks worse than it feels.' He tried, giving it another three seconds before he would be the one prying fingers from skin.

'What have you done?' Dean managed to mumble through a closed hand.

Sam glanced down at his shredded arms before returning frightened eyes to his brother.'I don't know.'

Dean's hand lowered and took hold of one of his brother's wrists, gently twisting to inspect the damage.

'You use a knife?' He asked breathlessly.

'No.' Sam replied quickly. 'No. My fingernails.'

'Your f…?' Dean's expression was one of pure disbelief but ran a fingertip over each one of Sam's nails regardless. Why, he asked himself, hadn't he noticed this before? Crooked and rough, sharp and ragged. These nails could just do it.

'God-dammit Sam!' He didn't mean to yell, he really didn't. It came out before he could think to stop it. Sam didn't flinch, just made the move to pull his shirt back on.

'Leave it off.'

'I-'

'We need to bandage it.'

Sam let the shirt fall again. He didn't know if he preferred Dean yelling at him or the thick silence that followed. Either way he felt uncomfortable and exposed. His white t-shirt offered no privacy, not where it really mattered.

'You think this is about the wall?' He asked interrupting the quiet.

'Do you?'

'I don't know.'

Dean Winchester felt sick, more than sick, like his world was crumbling beneath him. As if it was taking all and everything to keep him upright.

'Why?' He realized he'd spoken the word aloud and added a confused: 'You were itchy?'

'No. Not itchy. I can't explain. It just felt good.' Sam blinked.

'Good?' How could slashing at your arms feel good? 'What does that even mean?'

Sam only shook his head. Nothing about this was rational or sane. There was no perfect explanation. No words to help his brother understand.

'When?' Dean frowned, sure if he didn't keep speaking he wouldn't keep breathing.

'At night, when you're asleep.' Sam bit his bottom lip a little too hard. 'I hid it pretty well.'

'No you didn't.' Dean retorted with a snort, suddenly furious with himself. All past signs flashed violently through his mind; Sam's body issues, the light off in the bathroom, the endless nights he pretended to be asleep, the obsessive need for a jacket in the height of summer. Everything, all of it spelt out Sam was hiding an action rather than anything resulting from no fault of his own. Loud and clear. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he not want to see? Not want to face what was happening right under his nose or was he really just that stupid?

'Dean, stop.' Sam knew his brother. Knew without a doubt he'd be scanning his brain for reasons why he was to blame. Dean had nothing to do with any of it. In fact, if it wasn't for Dean, Sam didn't want to imagine what condition he would be in. 'I didn't want you to know. I would have done anything for you not to find out.'

As always.

Another secret, another lie, another problem left until it's too late.

Lumpy trails of mashed red lines upset Dean's eyes once more. First things first. Wounds needed to be treated, the possibility for more damage needed to be yanked and change needed to begin.

'We need a first aid kit.' Dean stood up and moved to the kitchen counter.

Sam's head dropped. That was his fault. Their first aid kit was probably lying haplessly in the lost and found tub in a back office of the last motel they'd stayed at. It was his job to perform the final check of the room while Dean packed up the Impala. He was usually the thorough one, but on that day, it was early, he was tired and obviously bypassed the bottom drawer of the bathroom. Now, when they really needed it, and needed it twice in one day, it was three hundred miles away.

'A gas station has to be open.' Instead of grabbing his car keys like Sam expected, Dean lifted the grubby table phone. Skeevy motels might not offer the same level of service as the top notch hotels down the road but if you knew how to swing it, magic could happen.

Dean knew how to swing it.

Money talks. Especially when the owner's two sons seemed the type to do anything for a quick dollar. The offer to pick up and deliver one first aid kit to room 'one-o-five' for two hundred and fifty cash sent both guys bounding out the door yahoo-ing before Dean could step back from the bathroom with a pair of nail clippers in his right hand.

Sam had no idea why his heart plummeted at the sight. It was the logical next step. There was just something about his older brother holding the silver clump of metal over him with strict determination that upset him. He didn't let on and reached out his hand.

'Cut them right down.' Dean insisted sitting on the edge of the bed to supervise every click. At times he instructed to cut smoother, sometimes to cut further but all the time resisted the urge to snatch the clippers out of his younger brother's hands and snap at the nails himself. Sam kept his patience. This was for his own good. He wished Dean would move away and leave him to it but he understood why that wasn't a viable option. He wouldn't try to sabotage but Dean didn't know that. So he had to be watched.

The guys knocking at the door were made to wait a few seconds. Dean's final fingernail check was well underway and he had no intention of leaving his position until it was guaranteed any kind of scratching was nothing more than a distant memory. Once he was sure, he left Sam with a heavy glare, opened the door to two smiling boys and exchanged cash for the half-assed first aid kit. After a tight 'Thanks,' he flung the door shut, slid one of the crappy chairs over to his brother's bed with his foot and sat down.

Every movement was stilted and stiff, aggressive and heavy. Sam wasn't sure if he was angry or distressed, stressed or disturbed but whatever he was, Dean was close to exploding. There was one more thing though. One thing that could just push him over the edge. Still, now was the time. There would never be another time.

'Dean-' Sam looked into the kit. It really was second rate compared to their old one. He wondered if it held enough bandage to cover both arms and one ankle let alone anything else.

'What?' Dean's lips pursed tight while he rummaged through the supplies.

'There's not enough for my legs as well is there?'

The older Winchester dropped every item in his hands, closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. Both arms flung up and landed on his head. With a deep breath in, a stare fixed to the ceiling, he prepared himself. 'What are you telling me?'

'Only my thighs.'

'Only?' With a sharp nod, he bolted upright and slammed an open hand down on the kitchen bench. 'Show me!' He stood furious and Sam almost unbuttoned his jeans right there and then.

'You don't have to see. I can do it myself.'

'Show me!'

'There's no need for you to see. I'm just asking-' Sam swallowed, his heart racing. 'I'm just telling you.'

Sam Winchester hated confessing, hated it more than hiding dark and shameful secrets, but the weight lifting from his shoulders would only serve to help him. He knew that. But what in the world would help his brother? Dean was struggling to hold on, fighting to remain strong. If he wasn't Dean Winchester, he would have dropped by now, Sam was positive.

The fear in Sam's voice eased Dean's rage. God knew he had to stay in control and God knew if anything could force him to stay in control it was a scared and wounded younger brother looking up at him. 'Okay.' He calmed himself and took his seat again, pulling it in closer to the bed. 'Dude you should have told me before. We could have gotten two of these.'

'Sorry.'

Dean's heart ached. These scratches hacked into scars; scars that had been lying dormant for months now. Every gash, every slice represented something hidden; a massive emotion or pain blocked behind a temporary wall. The odds he once depended upon diminished with every cross of the bandage. He should have expected it; his worse fears always seemed to play out right in front of his eyes. And nothing was ever permanent. The wall was coming down. His brother had been scratching. Scratching at something that was currently saving his life.

They had to fix this and they would. No way were they going to lose against this.

Even if they already were.

'Sammy does it hurt?' The anguish in Dean's eyes hurt Sam more. And Sam knew to tell the truth would only add to his brother's pain.

'Not at the time.' It was a spin, not a lie and Dean got it. He didn't need to hear how much the scratches stung and throbbed in the days following. Didn't need to hear how every slash did its job of reminding Sam of the screwed up mess he had become.

Dean nodded and fought the urge to scream.

Bandages can be deceiving and sometimes surprising. Dean was careful not to over-extend and Sam was left with enough to wrap both of his thighs himself. From the furthest corners of his eyes from the furthest corners of the kitchen, Dean continued to oversee the procedure, but this time remained subtle. It was never his intention to rip any dignity from his brother. That was the last thing he wanted.

By the time jeans and shirt replaced white-covered limbs, Dean was stepping over with two beers from the fridge and a plate-load of cheese and tomato sandwiches. Sam had a point, hiding those gashes did have advantages. It allowed Dean to function again.

'How're you doing?' The older Winchester asked passing a bottle to the younger and placing the plate on the bedside table.

'Okay.'

Sam felt the pull of the bandages. It was an odd sensation but with the material smothering his injuries he felt less broken. The shame still punched at his guts and the flush of his face remained, but now Dean was aware and aware of almost all, he felt a little more protected and secure.

But not completely.

There was more to this than the physical wounds, more that threatened his new comfort. So many questions; countless questions and fears bashing at his head, urging him to push for answers. Buried answers that would only serve to harm him rather than help him. He glanced over at Dean but Dean didn't have any solutions for this one, not this time. Probably not a single one. They were driving this bus blindly on a windy, uncertain road leading to a doomed destination left in the hands of the divine and unnatural.

There wasn't much hope.

'Sammy, you have to stop.' Dean told him rocking him from his trance. 'If this is the wall – even if it's not. It's no good. You can't hurt yourself like this.'

'I know.' Questions kept knocking. Especially one; over and over again until it became unbearable and he could no longer hear Dean's own words.

'Dean?' He felt some hair fall forward onto his eyelashes. It kind of felt good.

'Yeah?' Dean spoke the word softly, careful not to scare the question away.

'What happened to me before?'

_(tbc…) _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dean eyes squinted. His fear and trepidation peaked upon hearing the details but he needed to stay grounded. The story about the black room with the colored doors was surely some kind of mirage. It sounded too dream-like to be anything else.

He took another swig of beer to appear calm to Sam but also to swallow any doubt prickling at his throat. 'You got to know it wasn't real right?'

'Why not?' Sam's belief didn't align with his. This didn't sit well with Dean. They needed to be on the same page so Sam could remain strong enough to fight the threat of another episode.

'It can't be. Bobby's alive and well. I can get him on the phone right now and prove to you he's alive and well.'

'I told you, it was set in the future.

'So then how can it be a memory? It doesn't make sense.'

'Time is no issue for him. He can fling it around to suit himself.' Sam glanced down at his hands. 'That's just another one of his games.'

'Well I think it was heat exhaustion.'

Sam wasn't convinced. A hidden flashback made more sense to him than some random hallucination because he was hot. His condition might have sparked it but this was deeper than some delirious illusion. That, he knew, was fact.

'I'm calling Bobby.' Dean set his bottle on the table and pulled his cell from the front pocket of his jeans.

'Don't call Bobby. He doesn't want to know.'

'He'd want to know this.'

'Don't Dean. '

Dean sighed and slumped down on a kitchen chair. 'Dude, why not? This thing with him and dad? I want you to know that isn't how they feel.'

'It's exactly how they feel.'

'No, it's exactly how you feel they feel.'

Sam knocked back a gulp of his own. Same thing. Bobby refused to talk to him and his father suggested Dean pull the trigger years ago. John Winchester gave his life to save his oldest son but his last words proved he preferred a dead younger one than an abomination. For the sake of his family and the world, Sam Winchester should never have been born. Who, he wondered, didn't think that? It was perfectly logical.

'You saved the world if you care to remember.'

'What?' Sam's eyes shot up to meet his brother's. The sudden and immense confusion hurt his head.

'The world would be on its last legs by now if it wasn't for you.' Dean's words continued to shock him. 'And as for mom and dad stopping at me, it was never going to happen. You know that and if by some miracle dad could appear to you - or whatever… he would know that too.'

'I said that out aloud?' Judging by Dean's pissy face, he said it alright. What the hell? Now he couldn't control his own mouth? The air conditioner pumped ice-cold air, even causing him to shiver on occasion. Nothing about this could be blamed on heat.

'Don't go thinking this stuff Sam.' Dean ordered, clearly unimpressed. 'Seriously, I'm calling Bobby.'

'If you have to call someone, call Cas.' Bobby, he thought, couldn't help even if he wanted to.

Which he didn't.

'Of course he does. Let me just try.'

He spoke again? Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts as Dean scrolled through his contacts list. Something was happening. It felt like a start of a migraine but it was coming on too quickly. Flashes of white light burnt through his right eye and then his left. Dean was slipping away. Sam could only make out the small shadow of him as paced the room with phone to ear. All else was gone. His peripheral vision cut.

'Bobby. We've got a thing -'

'Dean…' Sam managed, just after a sheet of light flashed in both eyes. Yellow this time and hot. 'Call Cas. Quick.'

'What's going on Sam?' Dean remembered this panic; watching his brother squirm due to a sharp pain stabbing through his skull. It mimicked his old visions precisely; the scrunch of his face, the twist of his head, the hand zapping to his eyebrows.

By the time Dean disconnected the call, dropped his cell and raced over to his brother, Sam was somewhere else.

oOoOoOo

Hell must have skewed the most beautiful angel, because down here, in the cage, he was the most terrifyingly ugly, obscene beast to ever exist. But he _was _the devil and unfortunately for Sam, the devil had a name to live up to.

For a brief second, Sam remained on the bed facing this monster complete with a sore ankle and bandaged skin, but it was only for a solitary second. In the next he felt the searing burn of the glowing, orange metal scorch his body and saw the infinite space of the black nothingness surrounding them. He knew to stand so only the bottom of his two feet blistered as they burned. It didn't matter if the agony shot up through his legs and overtook his whole being; just as long as no other part of him touched that blazing, square boxed cage.

The sizzle of his soles forced him to dance a little in the desperate but futile hope to find a more comfortable position. There never was, no matter what he did. Excruciation was simply part of the whole experience.

But only for him.

He tried not to wince.

The beast smirked. Sam glared right at it. The other angel behind him smiled too, but Sam's eyes hardly left the appalling sight to notice. Over time, he taught himself to face the devil – Head on.

Sam was aware of the next step. He wasn't surprised when the beast raised his right arm. He remembered now that he was back here. Remembered it all.

The claws reminded him of sharp, serrated machete blades. They looked more like massive bear claws but still, they felt like sharp, serrated machete blades.

Sam swallowed and braced himself, but subtly. In this instance, no matter how many times it played out, Sam for the sake of his own pride used this one instance to appear confident and bold.

Always the same; slashing into his legs first, whooshing him off his feet, slamming him down onto the burning cage. Leaving him only to writhe while struggling to lift himself from any part of the radiating steel rods. Then after a short while, to stop him lifting, the devil would slice through his arms causing his bludgeoned body to drop and singe.

Sam would scream out in sheer agony.

And Michael would stand behind him and laugh. Watching this particular kid thrash and shriek in unbearable pain for days on end had its perks. It provided pure entertainment of the highest caliber.

'Hey!'

Dean's voice broke through Sam's head. He took a moment from his torture and glanced down at his lacerated legs and arms. Seeing the blood spurt from his shredded flesh made him wonder just how he was going to explain this one to his brother. Dean was going to be pissed. All that bandaging was for nothing and if he had to hand over another exorbitant amount of money for a second first aid kit he was going to punch a wall.

'Sammy!'

'Dean!'

Sam forgot. Calling for Dean earned him an extra punishment; a single but intolerable slash ribboning his chest. Sam screeched again, feeling his own heart slice in half. If only that act could kill him. But you can't kill something that's already dead. The devil told him that many-a-time.

He risked it again. 'Dean!'

Another slash across his abdomen. Guts spewed through his skin. God, it hurt so much. Never had he ever imagined a pain this horrendous.

'Sammy, focus!'

If he could hear his brother this clearly, he knew there was hope. This was just another bout. The agony screamed otherwise, but somewhere within he believed if he could crawl out, he would get back.

Handcuffs suddenly clicked around his disfigured wrists and ankles, clamping the back of him to the fiery bars. His breath left him again while blood oozed down the hot silver chains. He heard the malicious chuckle of the devil but forced himself to begin the deliberate creep into the corner of his mind where Dean always stood, where his brother never left him.

'God help me.' Sam breathed unable to break out of the agony. Dean seemed too far away on this occasion. Sometimes it was exceedingly difficult to get to him, to even imagine him. He was out of practice. He'd have to train himself again. The mere thought devastated him.

'Come on Cas! Get him back!'

'I'm trying!'

Sam heard the exchange between his brother and the angel before he felt the first flame lick at his thighs. Another one of the devil's ecstasy trips; when slashing, cutting and carving were just not enough. A few severe burns on open flesh here, a couple of fist-sized blisters there, slow and relentless. Just so the devil could inhale and delight in every single one of Sam's cries.

'Do some kind of spell or something!'

'I'm trying Dean!'

Cas sounded as stressed as his brother. Sam felt sorry for the both of them. They were as powerless as he.

'We have to get him out!'

Poor Dean. He never gave up. Always trying to save the unsaveable, especially when the unsaveable was Sam. Sam regretted not thanking him properly for that but as he closed his eyes and forced his way back into his mind, his final ounce of hope turned to ash. There was no escape. He was in too deep now, been down there too long. The devil with all his pain and torture had cut away his strength. The only thing left to do now was hide away in his mind. Like he used to. Pretend everything was okay. Pretend Bobby would survive and his brother would be alright without him.

'We're losing him Dean. I can feel it.'

Maybe if Dean had a place in his mind he could find his way there too. They could both imagine driving side by side along a dark and deserted road with Dean's crappy music blasting through their ears. Maybe they could both pretend to hunt things, smile together and win for once.

'No. We're not losing him. I'm not losing him again!'

_Yes you are Dean but it's okay because this time you don't know where I am. You don't know what's happening to me and you don't know how much I'm suffering. _

_Pretend I'm back at school, pretend I'm with mom and dad. Pretend I'm anywhere but here. _

_Please. _

_Just pretend._

'Dean, it's too late.'

'No. Cas please. This happened too quickly!' The anguish and grief in Dean's voice cut Sam deeper than any devil's claw could. 'It didn't give me enough time.'

'I'm sorry Dean.' Sam's felt his own tears fall as the angel's voice faded away. 'I really am.'

_(Tbc...)_


	6. Chapter 6

_What a delay! Hope you are all still with me. :)_

**Chapter 6**

'God-dammit Bobby!' Dean screeched down his phone; voice raspy, face burning. 'You didn't even try to help him! You knew the risks! You knew more than he did and you just left him to it! Now he's gone! You're a selfish, spiteful, son of a bitch and I will never forgive you for this!'

'What do you mean he's gone?' Bobby froze thick with shock, not just from the sudden and confusing information being shouted at him but also at the aggressive tone he was being dealt.

'Don't talk to me, don't call me again. We're done. Do you hear me?'

'Tell me what's going on Dean.'

'Why? You said yourself you didn't want to know!'

'Where is he?'

Dean smirked in a huff. 'That's a frickin' good question! His body is right here next to me and he looks like he's sleeping but he's not asleep and how do I know that?' He roared his next words: 'Because I had to close his eyes myself!'

Silence, before a soft. 'Tell me where you are.'

'Go to hell!'

Dean slammed the phone face down on the bedside table and ran two hands through his hair. 'Come on Sammy. Please!' Cas rushed off long ago with an order to find a solution, any solution to bring Sam back. The angel had little faith but much determination. He ached to be wrong.

So, alone Dean sat in this seedy motel room, staring at his brother. Watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. He was alive. He was in there somewhere. They just had to get him back. Somehow.

Rubbing fresh tears into his eyes didn't clear any confusion. Twenty-four hours ago all was fine. His brother sat beside him in the Impala not complaining about the volume, not complaining about the heat and not complaining about the hunt. Now after an injured ankle, a weird-ass vision and a confession nasty enough to shatter Dean's world, the only thing left of him was a shell.

The wall couldn't crash this quickly could it?

Death didn't tell him it was that flimsy.

But he didn't tell him it wasn't either.

As if only to infuriate him further, the muffled sound of his usually loud ringtone interrupted the heavy silence. Flipping it upright and only offering the caller a terse, sidewards glance proved his suspicions; Bobby. Of all the nerve. He snatched to pick it up. 'What part of go to hell don't you understand? Or is that too close to Sam too? Because that's probably where he is! I hope you're happy!'

'How is this my fault?' Bobby's defenses kicked in long before he even pressed to connect. He was okay with taking some of the heat in something he was yet to understand, but all of it? How could he be solely to blame for whatever was happening there?

And what exactly was happening there? That was the question.

'Screw you!'

'Boy, talk to me!'

'The wall crashed okay? It crashed!'

Dean heard the older man's gasp.

'No, no, no. Don't even. You knew it was a possibility; this shouldn't be any surprise to you. You knew it could happen and you chose not to care.'

'Of course I care.'

'You could have helped stop this. Now he is as good as dead.'

Dean dropped the phone and turned wet eyes back to his brother. Death. He had to contact Death again. Only thing was, deep down he knew Death wasn't going to help him again. He'd blown his only solution. Useless. He couldn't even keep a Goddamn wall up.

oOoOoOo

Sam Winchester was in hell. The hell which burned and shredded him to pieces. The hell he wasn't prepared for. Last time he didn't consider the possibility of escape and so welcomed insanity. If he could lose his mind maybe he could lose some of the agony. Now though, things were different. He imagined climbing out, wondered if his body was going on without him and couldn't help but hold onto some elusive hope of freedom. If this was merely a vision, a memory, or even something else created in his mind, there was possibility. And possibility offered hope - not peace or acceptance. Just too much damn hope.

He hadn't forgotten. Last time he found his way back to a nicer reality by digging his fingernails deep into his arms. There was no chance of that now. Not when blazing cuffs secured his wrists to solid bars of a cage.

Dean; it hurt to think about him. Hurt too much. He jerked at his cuffs in a burning temper. More blinding pain zoomed through him and as he screamed another bloodcurdling scream, a new thought came to him. His wrists were cuffed, but they were also cut.

They were also cut.

oOoOoOo

Beer glasses - when thrown against a concrete wall were supposed to shatter. Only this one didn't. This one simply bounced back onto the floor and rolled along the stained carpet spinning to a stop at Dean's feet. He looked at it and blinked. Then took it as a personal insult. A little safisfaction swelled inside him when he raised his foot and stomped down on it with all his force.

The blood didn't worry him, either did the pain. The one stray piece of broken glass slicing just above his ankle only created one cut and not a big one at that. It was the reminder that messed with his head. Those bandages meant to protect Sam from his own cuts meant nothing now and those cuts; the ones that hurt his brother, also meant nothing. Not compared to where he was.

Concentrating too hard on the dripping blood sliding down his leg, he almost missed the sudden entrance of Bobby Singer and Castiel into the room. If it wasn't for the whooshing sound swirling around his head and the flicker of shadowed light shooting across the walls, Dean was sure he'd still be following the trail of the red liquid.

'You're mad.' Castiel stated noticing Dean's stiff stance as he stood. A questioning glance towards Bobby offered no answer. Bobby was too preoccupied eyeing the furious young man in front of him.

'What did you find out?' Dean asked the angel, jaw set, fist clenched.

'Nothing.'

'Then you can both get the hell out of here.'

'We're here to help.' Bobby told him with conviction. 'In any way we can. Just tell me what happened.' Bobby's attempts at pulling information out of the angel weren't successful enough. His stony, black and white disposition never offered nearly enough details. So once Castiel accepted the invitation of assistance and appeared in the kitchen of his house, Bobby ordered teleportion straight to Dean. Where regardless of any tension, he would get the full story.

With a sharp nod towards his brother, Dean grumbled a short: 'See for yourself.'

Bobby prepared himself. Took a deep breath and turned to face the younger Winchester. The fear and trepidation he expected to feel was nowhere. The anger, bitterness and defensiveness; gone. Taking in Sam's slumped body,closed eyes and a bandaged ankle elevated on a clean, white pillow reminded him of the Sam of before. The Sam that wove into his heart long ago, when he was nothing more than an innocent kid being shoved into a not so innocent world.

Without hesitation he stepped over to him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Reaching an open palm under Sam's floppy hair to feel for any temperature in his forehead, he sighed in relief. 'He has a fever. That's probably a good sign.'

'What? Now you suddenly care? When it's too late?' Dean noticed his own intense sarcasm ooze from his voice but felt no regret. He was pissed with no desire to hide it. Still, he paused, leaving an opening for the man to say the words he wanted to hear.

'I've never stopped caring.' Bobby replied, noticing a lone bead of sweat trickle from the kid's hairline down to his eyebrow. While wiping it away with his index finger, he wondered if that was progress rather than usual . 'And I'm hoping it isn't too late.'

oOoOoOo

Another try.

Another groan.

The cuffs shifted again, the right resting on one clear spot Sam aimed for before this idea struck him. Reluctantly but purposely he jiggled his wrists until the scorching metal landed back on an open wound and pulled tight against it. He hoped beyond all hope this was going to be worth it. If not, purposely inviting in more pain and too much permanent damage could just bring about a worse kind of hell.

Another scream.

Another tug.

A white flash.

'I salted and burned Jackson's bones myself.' Sam heard Cas speak in his usual monotone way. He sounded low and far away but it was definitely the angel's voice and it spurred Sam on to fry his open wounds all the more. 'So you don't have to worry about that anymore.'

'That's the last thing I'm worried about.' Dean snarled back. He sounded nowhere near as distant and Sam felt the essence of his brother's presence close to him. 'You know I only said we'd do it to get him confident in the hunt again. Everything we've done over the past eight months has been for that. And you know what? It probably just made him worse.'

Another ferocious pull. This one with even more fierce determination behind it.

'Dean-' Was that Bobby? God that sounded like Bobby.

'What is it?'

'He's sweating up pretty big time over here.'

'Sammy!'

Shots of flashing sparks darted through Sam, screeching and shrilling directly to his brain. It confused him. He couldn't tell if it was more intense pain or a door opening back to the real world, but regardless he kept pulling, kept trying, kept hurting himself to beat this.

oOoOoOo

'He's coming back' Cas was smiling a full, hopeful smile now. 'I can feel it. He's fighting hard.' The angel's hand remained fixed to the top of Sam's head, feeling but not informing Dean of the sheer agony his brother was inducing to get back to them.

'Sammy, come on buddy.' Dean encouraged rushing to the other side the bed. 'You can do this.' He then glared at Bobby. 'Say something to him.'

Without hesitation, Bobby's picked up a limp hand and held on tight. 'Been awhile kid. Looking forward to seeing you.'

'We have cold beer here. You feel like a beer Sammy?' Dean squinted, talking to his brother's body, struggling to remain calm and controlled, ignoring the internal shivering of his insides. This new hope; if it didn't come through, he would simply drop. He knew it. 'Sammy, please.'

The three of them heard the groan erupt in Sam's throat. It was deep and vibrating, loud and unwavering. Cas was right. Sam was trying, fighting hard to save himself. Dean smiled, and then nodded. And Sam's eyes finally flicked open.

'Thank God.' Dean breathed out. 'You okay?'

The cold and empty stare sent thousands of panic-waves through all three of them. Without thinking Dean grabbed hold of his brother's shoulders and shook roughly. 'Sammy!' When no reaction followed, Dean looked up at Cas in despair. 'What's going on?'

Castiel's frown and shake of his head did not fill Dean with very much optimism.

'Cas what the hell is going on!' Dean yelled, hitting points of hysteria. He stood up and stepped away from his brother. This was exactly the way his eyes blanked out when Dean closed them in the first place. 'Do something!'

Bobby stood and stepped away to allow space for Cas but Cas only shook his head in return.

'What?' Dean felt his heart rip open as he glared at his angel friend. 'Is he a vegetable now?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, is this as good as it gets? I mean you felt him coming back - you felt him leave for God's sake. Where is he now?'

'I'm sorry Dean, I don't know. It feels like he is back, but clearly...'

'Clearly he's not.'

The terror and helplessness in Dean's eyes almost broke Bobby but so did the nothingness in the other's. There was nowhere to look that didn't shove fear, regret and hopelessness down his throat. What had he done? And more to the point, what had he not done? If Dean was right and if this really was the end for Sam, he'd never be able to forgive himself. Losing a cold blooded killer was hard enough. Losing a much loved son - _again_ - was something altogether different.

'Dean.' Sam's mouth formed the word, but his eyes remained frozen; seeing nothing; offering less.

Dean swallowed at the freaky sight in front of him.

Just how much of his brother was back?

_(tbc..)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you all so much for the reviews. I love hearing what you guys have to say and very much appreciate every word. _

_And thank you to those who added to alerts and favorites_**. **

**Chapter 7**

Never supposed to happen.

Sam paralyzed.

No, never supposed to happen.

'Why can't I see? Dean, I can't see anything. I can't move!'

Dean shifted in his seat, half tempted to cover ears with his hands to stop the sound of his brother's panic. Hearing Sam freaking the hell out but coming up with no answer worth speaking made it too difficult to breathe. So he said nothing and instead buried his face in his arms while his little brother continued, voice soft.

'This is it, isn't it?'

'No.' Dean managed a word. It stunned him, but he felt its loss as it muffled in his bicep.

_Lift your head Dean. Look up and fix this for him. _

_Fix it._

'We'll figure all this out Sam.' Bobby studied an old painting of a decrepit hut sitting in the forefront of a burnt out sunset but his words came out convincingly. And Dean was grateful.

'But I can't see. I can't move. How am I going to...,' He breathed in. 'do anything?'

_Don't give up Sammy. Please just don't give up. You fix this for me this time. You do this and I will never ask you for a damn thing ever again_.

'Dean I can't. I can't be like this.'

'Then come back.' Dean bit his bottom lip. Lumping this pressure on his brother wasn't fair, but his mouth moved before his head could stop him and his thoughts slammed into Sam so forcefully it brought about one more unrelenting howl. One stronger than the others but another one which did no good.

Dean forced his head to rise.

'Dean dig your fingernails into my arms.' Sam spoke the words eagerly. And Dean almost felt like hitting his stone cold body. Silence indicated Dean's expected response so Sam spoke again. 'You want me to come back? Then do this. And deep. Draw blood.'

'I'm not going to draw blood and I'm not going to dig my fingernails into your already scratched to hell arms Sam.'

_Of all the stupid, damaging, pointless…_

'This is how I got back last time…And this time. Just finish it off for me here. It might work.'

'And if it doesn't?'

'Then I won't feel it anyway.'

Dean glanced up at the angel who simply glared back at him with one of his usual blank expressions. Dean frowned and growled. 'What if it just sends him spiraling back to wherever he came from?'

'Hell.' Sam simply stated.

'Exactly.' Dean flinched at the word causing him to accidentally catch sight of something that looked more like an out-of-order robot than his younger brother who not so long ago was full of depressed life. For less than an instant he focused on a tuft of hair blowing in the air conditioned breeze. In the next, his eyes slammed shut and his head turned away.

'It won't. It's what spins me out of there.' Sam tried.

'Don't ask me to do this.'

_Please._

'Dean, if I could do it myself I would but I can't move so you have to.'

'Dean.' Bobby raised his eyebrows, almost convinced. 'Maybe it's worth a shot. I can try if you don't want to.'

'No!' Dean shook his head and glared hard at the older man. 'If anyone's going to do it, it's going to be me.'

'Then please just do it.' Sam's voice asked. 'Please? I am begging you here.'

Okay, so Sam couldn't see him shaking his head and Bobby and Cas couldn't be sure he was wavering. And no one could hear his internal struggle; leave Sam sitting there motionless like the talking dead or make him rip and bleed to bring him back? Why...how...and more importantly: what the freaking hell?

'I won't even feel it.' Sam promised.

Dean willed his body still, kept his eyes closed and imagined the horror of pure blackness and immobility. It didn't work of course. Acting didn't bring about reality but it didn't have to. It didn't take empathy for Dean to know his brother was trapped in a different kind of hell now. It seemed, it only took being a Winchester.

_No escape. Never any escape._

'Dean, please.'

Something Dean wasn't sure of made him stand up and move slowly to his brother's bed. Something made him sit down and lift Sam's arms until they rested on his own. 'Can you feel this?'

'No.' Dean felt Sam's warm breath on his face. 'You're doing it?' No reply confirmed the answer. 'Thank you.' His sigh of relief helped Dean go on, yet still reluctantly. He turned Sam's arms over and placed his fingers lightly on top of the bandages.

'I don't like this. I don't like it at all and if it looks to be going the other way I stop. Got it?'

'Yes.'

Dean resisted the urge to close his brother's eyes again for his own benefit and sank further down into the ruffled sheets. Never did it cross his mind these bandages could ever be a more appealing sight than his brother's face. Yet only did he concentrate on them.

'Count to three.' Sam instructed consuming himself with nothing but mental preparation.

On three Sam roared out a yell to rival all others, faithfully believing if Dean was holding up his end of the bargain, the rest of him would come through. Dean cringed and instinctively shot his head up. It killed him to see Sam still lost behind statue eyes but as his fingers assaulted old scratches, what terrified him more was the absolute possibility of failure.

'Count to three again.' Upon hearing the next deep moan and seeing a slight flicker of Sam's lids, Dean applied more pressure; digging in all the more. 'Draw blood Dean.'

Dean shook his head, pressed his lips together and shut away any concern for his actions. He would deal with all this later. Send another message through to Sam once he had him back. Make sure nothing like this ever had to happen again. He didn't understand how this could work and didn't like the idea of more pain bringing less. Nothing about that made any sense. Wasn't this exactly what broke down that damn wall in the first place?

'It's working.'

The first red spot soaked through the white gauze and with it brought nausea to Dean's guts. Yet it also brought another flash of Sam's left eyelid. Dean still furious at himself slashed deeper. His fingernails continued to loosen the bandages and break through skin. How much more of this would it take? The alternative wasn't an option, but one thing he knew; he couldn't do this for much longer.

Red fluid dripped down his fingertips lining his cuticles. Determined to lose himself in the image caused him to jump in fright when Sam suddenly yanked his arms from his clutches. Hope burst inside him as his eyes met his brother's. Finally they were full of life. They'd done it. Together through destructive actions, they'd both brought him back.

Sam nodded, taking a huge fresh breath in, blinking madly and attempting to focus on the same ugly surroundings he had welcomed after coming out of his last vision.

'Hey Bobby.' His greeting was hesitant and nervous but docile and sweet.

'Cas.' The tail end of his terror now morphed into happiness. 'Hi.'

The sight of his brother had only a few times been so beautiful. 'Thank you Dean. Really.'

When Sam Winchester smiled he expected his brother to smile back. No longer was he imprisoned in hell - or within himself. He was alive and free and he expected Dean to be just as ecstatic. But Dean Winchester didn't return his smile. Granted; relief and gratitude surged out of his every pore, but he didn't smile. He did, however, stand just as Sam felt a stabbing but mild pain in his ankle.

'Dean.' Sam's heart dropped in response to his brother shaking his head and moving towards the door. 'I'm sorry.'

The slam of the motel door shocked Bobby as well as Cas, but not Sam. Sam Winchester knew his brother and knew what he'd asked of him. Asked him to purposely hurt him even if to save him. Punching in retaliation or reprimand - even anger was different, Sam was aware...But asking him to go against everything he believed in and draw his brother's blood after he'd only just bandaged the same injuries was too much.

The Impala roared to life and Bobby stood to close the curtains. Cas offered Sam a supportive smile, pressed two fingers against his head and focussed. Sam didn't feel like he deserved to be healed – of anything, but his mind was pre-occupied. If his brother hadn't just stormed out of the room and the Impala wasn't screeching out of the car park, Sam would argue the action. Insisting all this was exactly what he deserved and to quit fixing him all the time from superficial wounds he deserved to suffer.

'You went through a lot of pain.' Cas stated as if reading his mind. 'To come back I mean. You don't need any more.'

While that sounded right, it didn't feel right and instead of believing it, Sam presented a half smile and turned both feet to the floor. Of course his ankle was fixed now, as well as his arms and thighs. Nothing hurt. Not on the outside anyway. Not even when he stood and pushed down all his weight.

'Thanks.' It was said out of politeness. Truth was, Sam wished for something under his bandages. What if he needed them again? It was those scratches that saved him; those scratches and his brother. And he needed both of them like he needed air to breathe.

_Dangerous thought._ He shook his head. _Those scratches were bad. They only hurt. They didn't help..._

_But those scratches saved him. _

_They saved him._

_No._ His mind spun. _Stop thinking that. Just stop thinking at all._

He swallowed and turned to Bobby. 'Thanks for coming.'

It was a little more than politeness, but still politeness. With Dean out and angry at him, he couldn't rejoice in anything just yet. Not even in his surrogate father seeming comfortable enough to sit in the same room with him.

'Of course.' He smiled and frowned at the same time. 'But what's with your arms son? What's been happening here?'

Sam's head fell. Familiar and viscious daggers of shame stabbed into his guts. Not the time. It was time to deal with something else first. 'Can we talk about it later? I want to call Dean.'

'Dean can do with some space. How about you tell me now?'

'How about later?' Sam lifted his head and looked Bobby square in the eyes. 'I'm calling Dean now.'

_(tbc...)_

_Sorry for any errors or mistakes. Not once, but twice I lost revised drafts. __It should teach me not to edit here, but it proabably won't. _

_Hope you enjoyed regardless of how much better it was...before. _


	8. Chapter 8

_**In alphabetical order, it's time to give a huge shoutout to my girls: Emmau, Twinchester Angel and twomoms. **_

_**You ladies know why and what you do for me! Love you all xox**_

_**Special mention to angeleyenc who reviews every chapter in every story I write.**_

_**And to everyone else who reviews; thank you so much. **_

**Chapter 8**

Sam Winchester glared down at his phone remembering a time he prided himself on doing the right thing. He chuckled a little, attempting to hide any sound from the two men eyeing him to his left. Knowing them…No, knowing him, they'd believe he needed some kind of critical assistance and rush to his aid. They'd interpret his resentful laugh as a self-loathing problem requiring urgent attention no doubt.

But this wasn't about him. Nor did he want them to make it about him. This was about his brother. And his brother was the one who deserved to be helped.

He thought back to a time where Dean poured his juice, packed his schoolbag… gave up his life to suffer in that torturous place called hell. What a mess he'd made of that. Every move he'd made, every footstep in the wrong direction was just another slap across Dean's face.

Good intentions or not, he dragged his kicking and screaming brother down the long, painful, narrow, windy, gravel road leading straight to utter devastation. Every time. Delusion seemed to be the correct diagnosis for his issues – or maybe just utter stupidity. He didn't know exactly, but whatever it was, instead of honoring his brother's sacrifice, he spat in the face of it. And it brought tears to his eyes.

So through blurry vision, he looked down at his phone. Was there anything he could say to make things right this time? Anything that would stop Dean from feeling as though he helped hack into the skin of someone Sam thought unworthy of saving? He didn't think so. But what he did know is that he had to say something. At least try.

Bobby wasn't approving, but Bobby could deal. Cas stood still probably wondering how much longer this would take, wishing for Sam to hurry up so he could flash away and take care of whatever pressing situation was taking place in his weird outer world.

Sam pressed to connect. And waited, inhaling a deep breath.

Dean answered on the first ring. 'Sam? What's wrong? Are you okay?'

Sam took his time to answer, purely in an attempt to manufacture some inspiring answer to convince Dean he was fine. He just needed him home.

'Sam?'

He ran a hand through his hair after resting an elbow on the table and swallowed. 'I'm fine.'

'Oh thank God.'

'Where are you?'

'I don't know.' Dean scanned his forest-like surroundings as they flashed by him at rapid speed. No signs. Had there been any? 'Somewhere.'

Sam nodded forgetting Dean couldn't see him, forgetting the silence would scare him.

'Sam?'

'When are you coming back?'

Dean glared intently at the open road through his dirty windscreen. A wide corner approached but just like every other corner, the mystery of its journey didn't excite him. It just made him sadder. Driving away from his brother hurt, but he was hurting anyway so just like all the others, he turned the steering wheel and gave into its lacking intrigue.

'Dean?' Sam straightened, hope brimming but apprehension peaking.

Dean checked his watch. These turbulent eight minutes had felt like eight hours but they were hours he needed. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

'Yeah. Cas cured me of everything. Not even a sore ankle anymore.'

'Good. That's good.'

'So-?'

'I'll be back later.' Dean said into the phone quickly. 'Catch up with Bobby. You and him have a lot to talk about.'

Sam frowned and scratched his jean and bandage covered leg. This wasn't how he wanted the call to go.

'Dean?' He said craving to say more. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm okay.' Dean closed his eyes. 'I'll be back in a bit.'

Only when Dean disconnected the call, did Sam. The phone lay heavy in his hand. He noticed a small scratch on its side. How did that happen? Did he do it without knowing?

Probably.

'He just needs some time Sam.' Bobby again, repeating the same words to him, but Sam only just heard his mellow voice. His own mind seemed so far away and unresponsive, he worried he was slipping again. 'Looks like you do too.'

'I don't need time.' Sam answered. Bobby took a seat opposite him and clasped his hands together tighter than necessary. Cas correctly read the sideways expression; please leave and please leave now. The angel nodded once and with silence, disappeared.

'He didn't have to go.' Sam said without prying his eyes away from the screen. Maybe he was hoping for Dean to call back, maybe he was contemplating calling back. All he knew for certain; that phone call only increased his concern for his brother.

'Yes he did.' Bobby stated, pulling his chair in closer to the wobbly table. 'Anyway, gives us time to talk about-'

Sam's phone sprung to life and his fingers pounced. 'Dean?' His brother changed his mind, he was coming back to sort this out.

'Leave those bandages on okay?' Sam's guts plummeted. Trust gone again. He got it. It was a fair request but it made him feel sick. Rubbing an eyebrow he realized he really shouldn't be taking this long to reply.

'Yep.' He said with commitment, closing teeth around a dry piece of skin by his thumb.

Dean wanted to tell him it was for precaution sake, a hopeful deterrent, another layer of protection. But to say those words, his own actions would rise and overpower him and all he wanted to do was drive to beating music pulsating through his body. So he disconnected, placed his cell on Sam's seat and spun a u-turn. He would drive, but not too far away. Not far enough that if some kind of emergency arose, he wouldn't be only minutes away from his brother.

oOoOoOo

'So there you have it.' Sam said to Bobby's mesmerized face with less emotion than he felt. Repeating those same sordid details which not so long ago spun his brother and him into a horrifying nightmare caught in his throat, threatening to choke him.

Bobby sat back, removed his dirty blue cap and flung it on the table. Sam waited, concentrating once again on his phone. The older man reached over and gently took it from his shaky hand. Sam's eyes didn't move. He waited, blood pumping a familiar stream of stubbornness yet he didn't know why.

'Oh Sam.'

'Yeah, he screws up again.' The sentence was sarcastic and he regretted it immediately. But he didn't want to talk anymore; not to Bobby. He just wanted to rip those confining bandages off his body to feel less bound to himself.

'I owe you an apology-'

'You don't owe me anything.'

'Sam.' Bobby said definitely. 'I owe you an apology.'

Without gracing the man with a reply, Sam stood and snatched his long sleeved plaid shirt from the end of his bed. Throwing it on seemed easier when his body was lighter and so did walking to the door.

'Where are you going?'

'For a walk.'

As the door closed quietly behind the younger Winchester, Bobby glanced down at the cell lying idly on the table in front of him. Sam's phone. He sighed into the empty room. Maybe both boys did need some space after the anguish they'd just suffered but one thing he knew for certain, if Dean beat Sam back, all hell would break loose.

oOoOoOo

The rock Sam placed himself on was old and large and too hard, but it would do. The stones at his feet offered little to no entertainment after the third or fourth kick and the darkness settling in over him cooled the still muggy air. He thought he wanted to be alone. Thought the only way out was to get away from Bobby. It wasn't like he regretted making the move; he didn't. It was just being this alone, in the dark, with only himself as company, didn't feel like it used to. Or like it ought to.

He wasn't going anywhere though, had no intention to shift. Not even when his stomach started to rumble or his legs began to ache. Not even when all logic ordered him back to the motel room. This big old rock held him firmly in place and this big old rock sat as out of place as he did.

_Hell._

The last one felt like a memory but it wasn't a memory because he was there. The devil, the slashing, Michael and the burning cage. God, it was all just there. He feared to remember any of the agonizing details knocking at the inside of his head in case his thoughts alone shot him back to that excruciating dimension. Unfortunately though, as he knew all too well, he wasn't like Dean. He couldn't section bits off and archive them away. This would stay with him; suffocate him until he dealt with it. He just didn't know how to this time, nor did he trust himself to do it right if he thought he did.

What would keep him out?

What would keep him in?

Was there any answer or was it simply definite one time -even if it wasn't the next - would be a time holding no escape? Terror gripped at him. Eternity meant never-ending. _Never-ending_, and an eternity is what Lucifer hungered for him. Knowing what he knew now reaffirmed he never beat the devil. Not really. The devil beat him. In the end.

The call of his name woke him from his trance, startled him from his thoughts. Bobby. His faint voice laced with concern. _Well,_ _I'm not coming back. _Sam thought. _Not yet._ He clamped down his hands on the cool stone and remained still under a light brighter than the full moon.

For over another hour.

Before his restlessness turned into fear, the sound he'd been waiting for prickled his ears and he stood. Anxiety twisted his chest tighter than he could wring a wet towel. His control was lost, his excuse feeble, his reason real. If only he could explain it all. Maybe that would make this plan seem reasonable. Bobby's calls grew more urgent. He blocked them out. He could do that now. And waited.

The brightest of the white light smacking his eyes made him squint. This was it. Whooshing towards him. There was no going back, but it felt right. It was what he had to do.

The blackness spun around him to his left. And halted suddenly. He remained standing although flinched a little. It was all so close now. The lights, the blackness, the sound. His mind swirled. It shouldn't be like this. But it was now. All the freaking time.

A familiar creak, then a slam.

_This was for his brother, not him._

_Not him._

'Sam.' Sam watched as the body created whizzing black shadows against the reception bricks as it passed by the headlights. 'What are you doing out here?'

Sam peeled his eyes from their dancing silhouettes now reflecting red under the "No Vacancy" sign above him.

Dean frowned, 'Sammy?'

Sam's eyes focused just as Dean clutched his arms.

'Waiting for you.'

_(tbc...)_

**_Another thank you to Emmau who gave me instructions on how to post this in spite of all these issues this site is having. For those who still need to know, once you get the Error message, go up to the url and replace the word 'property' with 'content' and it will allow you to update. :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

_So sorry for the delay in writing this. I had one massive block that lasted weeks. _

_Thanks for your patience and for your reviews of the last chapter._

**Chapter 9**

Dean Winchester didn't curse God much. Knowing what he knew now halted any follow through in that department. Hard to do, hard to change but horrific experience did things to you nothing else could. His drive convinced him of a few things. Convinced him to fight only what had to be fought. Accept his fear, embrace it and then use it to conquer whatever evil son of a bitch stood in their way. It was simple, obvious, even uncomplicated and it was something he used to know how to do. He could relearn he decided. It was still in him and still accessible.

He just had to not drive in to see his fragile and breaking brother standing out in the dead of the night alone in the middle of an open car park.

'Where's Bobby?' The question was clear, concise and required an answer, yet instead of opening his mouth Sam continued in his struggle to pull free of Dean's clasp. The older Winchester let go but not before a light shake of his brother's wrists. 'Did you two have an argument?' He wanted to scream, needed to shriek out a demand. _Tell me you are okay; tell me everything is going to be okay!_

Sam blinked. Dean waited. 'No.'

That one word was enough to allow Dean to breathe again but in the general area of information, it didn't even come close. 'Then, what the hell Sam?'

Dean was freaked, Sam could tell. The purr of the Impala rumbled to their left, the driver's side door still flung open. If Sam didn't know better, it would appear like some kind of emergency was taking place right there beside them.

'You hungry?' Sam smiled a sweet smile. 'Remember that diner we saw driving in? Let's go check it out.'

'What?'

'Grab a burger or something?'

Dean's head hurt. One of those blindingly painful, stabbing behind the eyes kind of hurt. The stress and worry he somehow managed to dump back on High Street crashed through him almost winding him with its chuckle. Yeah, he thought, one big joke. _You can't escape me for long Dean Winchester; you can't escape anything for long. We will always find you. _

Haha-friggin-ha!

Dean punctuated each of his next words with a small pause, although knowing with every one, he made absolutely no sense. 'What –are- you…Where-is…Why?'

Sam shrugged. 'I'm hungry.'

'Sam!'

Sam choked back some feeling he wasn't sure of, something falling between guilt and confusion. 'Dean, I don't want to make you mad. I didn't do this to make you mad. Just…can we please go out and get something to eat?'

'Why _did_ you do it?' Question number one. Question number two; where the hell was Bobby? But question number one needed to be answered first. Dean, again, waited.

Sam shook his head, not sure anymore.

'Not good enough Sam. Look at what you just went through; look at what I could have driven back to find. If I had've known you were just going to take off, I never would have lef-' Dean stopped short, took one step back and squinted up at his brother. 'That's what this was?'

'What?'

'You did this so I wouldn't leave again?'

'No.' That wasn't it. Sam sighed but it wasn't an appropriate response. Dean's all too familiar expression of angry skepticism told him that in no uncertain terms. To get to the core, Sam muddled through his scrambled brain, desperate to find the right words. The words to explain…everything. The slight breeze in the still humid night lifted the weight in the air but it didn't lift any tension. Two brothers eyeing the other; silence smothering while their world spun around them.

'You know what?' Dean was the first to speak which offended them both. 'Let's talk about this in the room. Some car is going to tear around here and take us both out.'

'Or the diner?'

'I don't want to drive anymore; I don't want to see another living soul.' Dean's voice rose as he stepped around to his door, 'All I want to do is go back to the room and find out what the hell went down here.'

'Dean.' Sam's voice remained calm but it was that type of Sam-calm Dean found unsettling. The type that stopped him dead in his tracks. Sam spoke with careful resolve. 'I don't want to go back to the room.'

And Dean understood at least part of it. One truth. Out and hanging, floating above them like some circling but carefree bird.

Dean swallowed and with a nod, asked the question. 'You want him to get another room?'

'Yes.'

oOoOoOo

Sam Winchester felt extreme guilt, but when, he wondered, didn't he? Making the old man move to a different room wasn't enough for him but it was as much as he could ask. His heart might have dropped a little when the room he was allocated was the one right next door and he might have almost changed his mind when the hurt in his brother's eyes reminded him of a hurt he'd been the cause of so many times before, but like always, just like himself, he said nothing and instead decided to feel what he felt, because the alternative was worse.

Dean didn't argue. The old man insisted he understood, but when Dean left him for those three minutes to 'settle Bobby in'; the yelling which followed only increased his shame. Yet still he sat, stiff on his bed and listened in, wishing he couldn't hear, wishing Dean could remember how thin the walls were, how close their rooms were and how Sam could never just not listen in.

Bobby threw his bag onto the bed and slumped himself down on his new, ugly couch. He didn't need this. He felt like crap enough now thank you Dean. He didn't need this tone of voice and this kind of aggression in his face. And he told him so.

'Well you know what I don't need?' Dean fired back. 'My brother out there alone!'

'What could I do?'

'Call me! I would've come straight back. You know I would've but instead you just let him? You just sit there and do nothing?' Dean could not believe this happened, could not believe Bobby could be so utterly stupid. 'What were you thinking?'

'I was thinking he would come back. He said he was going for a walk.'

'It's not safe for him to go for a walk!' Now both of them were losing their minds, Dean was sure of it. Bobby and Sam, God, that's all he needed. It was hard enough dealing with one, let alone two of them.

'You don't think I know that?'

'Well, if you knew that, why didn't you call me?' Circles. His life had become full of circles. Large circles, small circles, circles that made you run around chasing nothing because they never got you anywhere.

'Dean, I called for him. He didn't answer.'

'Oh. Okay.' Did he hear right? Did this make sense to anybody else? What the hell? 'So you just go back inside and watch some TV?' Because that made so much more sense. Dean clenched his fist and then his jaw. 'He could have fallen into another episode!'

'If it went any longer…'

'Any longer than what? How long was he gone?'

'I don't know.'

'The man who knows everything?' Dean didn't believe that for a second. 'Yes you do. How long?'

'Dean, watch your tone. I mean it, we have a real problem here and we both know it. What's done is done and there aint no way of changing it now. Let's just be glad nothing happened and try to fix what we've got here.'

Sam Winchester ripped off the piece of skin by his thumb he'd bitten into earlier. It hurt and it stunned him back into his version of what he considered the real world. What was he doing? He couldn't do that. Seeing the red spot signifying a speck of rising blood, he stood up, shook out his hands and paced.

Dean glared down at the old man, a deep, intense kind of glare and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Why didn't you call me?'

Bobby rolled his eyes.

'Bobby, why didn't you call me?'

'Because I don't have the right!' Bobby matched Dean's volume but crinkled his face in regret. He didn't want a fight. No one needed a fight right now. That's why he obliged so quickly and quietly in the move to his own room next door.

'What?'

'I lost the right the minute I cut him out. I can't just waltz back in here and act as though nothing happened and I have a say in anything he does. I don't, not anymore and that was my choice. Now I have to live with it. I couldn't stop him, I couldn't even try. If I called you I would have just broken more trust...'

'When it is life and death, you have the Goddamn right Bobby!' Dean read the man's silence as petulance not entirely sure if it was or not, so added a low and deep but serious: 'This could kill him.'

'I know!'

'Then nothing else matters. None of that crap matters.'

'It wasn't crap. Not to me, not to him.'

'Bobby…'

'Dean, listen to me.' Bobby stood up and met Dean's eyes evenly. The man had passion. He held determination like he held a bottle of whiskey. 'You don't think I know why he doesn't want me in that room? You don't think I deserve it? What that kid went through, what he told me…what he thought I said in that vision of his…How can I tell him to do a damn thing when that's how he sees me?'

'So...What?' Dean half understood, but you know what? Screw it. This wasn't about him. This was about his brother's life and the very real threat to it. 'You just going to cry in the corner and leave him to die?'

'I'm here aren't I? I'm stayin' when he doesn't want me anywhere near him.'

'You better. You want to fix this? You better.'

When Dean turned on his heels, he heard the old man's pledge. 'I'm stayin''

'Good.' And with a huff, Dean mumbled a definite: 'You better.'

oOoOoOo

Dean caught his own grumbles as he slammed the front door behind him. He had to stop himself. He wanted to continue, wanted his rant to bounce off all the walls which closed in on him, but he couldn't. Nor could he do the equal best thing and yell the crap through Sam for being so reckless, careless and goddamned selfish - because once again, it was his job to walk on eggshells, careful not to say one wrong word or make one wrong move. The familiar position of being over a barrel was never comfortable, just infuriating and annoying.

'Here.' Sam handed him a beer and motioned him to sit with a wave of his hand, signaling a rough anywhere. The guy wanted to talk and when Dean wanted to yell, talking was the least appealing option. However, because of the wall and the risk and the obvious lack of brain cells in his brother's head now, he sat on a kitchen stool and took a swig of his beer. Which tasted about as warm and flat as it ever could.

'I'm sorry.' Sam told him placing his own tepid beer on the kitchen sink and leaning against it. The kitchen counter might have stood between them, but Sam was careful to place himself directly opposite Dean. He knew how to make his impact. Only his older brother had no intention of making eye contact with him. The overhead cupboards soaked up his attention.

Sam continued regardless. 'I'm sorry I made you mad. I'm sorry I made you...do what I made you do. I'm sorry you are always freaking out because of me and I'm sorry Bobby had to mo-'

'Well if you're that sorry...' Dean bit back but only momentarily creating a cloud of silence so strong it polluted the air.

'I know. Don't go out alone. I just didn't think.' Dean's eyes flickered cold. Sam understood. Probably the worst thing he could have said. Maybe one day soon he would get something right. There was hope in wishing. Maybe time to take a different strategy. 'It was pretty scary back then huh? I must have looked like some kind of zombie freak.'

Dean rubbed his eye and pursed his lips. A sure sign of intense and gut wrenching stress. Sam had seen the same mannerism a million times. 'What you did to save me. I mean I know what it took for you to do it.' Not only an uncomfortable conversation, but a risky one. Shoving this in Dean's face. It would either help or backfire, nothing in between. 'You always give it all to save me. Everything you have. I just...I want you to know-'

'What?' It was backfiring. Before Dean even spoke his next words Sam was aware. 'How much you appreciate it? Sam -' Sam braced himself. 'If you fully appreciated what I had to do back there, you wouldn't even think about putting yourself at risk again.'

A sudden white flash burnt the front of Sam's eyes. Instead of dealing with it, he ignored it and nodded. This wall was crumbling. It was going to fall soon. Terror gripped him from the inside but as he stood and wondered what the hell he could say to make his brother feel better, he knew, things were going to get worse. Worse for them both. And Dean was going to be left once again in a world without his brother.

'What was that?' Sam wasn't sure if it was the question or the booming crash of Dean's stool onto tiles which snapped his eyes to his brother. Maybe it was the sound of the gushing beer from bottle along bench top or Dean's abrupt jump to his feet, but whatever it was, it caused his mind to spin in confusion.

'What?'

'That flash.' Dean frowned scanning the room like a startled cat.

Sam felt his own mouth drop. 'That was in here?'

'What?'

'There was a flash?'

'Yes. It lit up the whole room.' Dean's eyebrows knitted together in suspicious confusion. 'Did you see it?'

'Yeah.'

'Then get your gun.'

(tbc)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sam didn't reach for his gun, Sam didn't move. Still he remained, watching his brother poise to shoot. Dean always looked so damn awesome in this position. Just like the kick ass hunter he was. So alert and prepared, his game face never wavering. Sam wondered what he looked like when he was about to shoot something's head off. He felt the same, but really, who knew? He'd never been all that great with self awareness. Maybe he just looked like a douche, a try hard douche.

'Sam, get your gun.' It was an order. Dean sounded exactly like their father. Only instead of obliging, Sam's eyes fell to the kitchen drawer. He racked his brain desperate to remember the last time he saw one open by itself like this. It intrigued him, made him tilt his head like some curious puppy.

'What the hell?' Dean dashed around the counter, slamming it shut with an almighty bang as he pulled the trigger at the empty space in front of them. Utensils crashed together while they stood motionless. Maybe Dean got the thing. That would be cool.

Or maybe not.

A sweeping icy wind blew past them at rapid speed. The ugly, brown curtain clattered and shook on the bent brassy rod and the hanging light bulb swerved madly, maybe even a little sarcastically. Lately, to Dean, everything felt like it was laughing at them. Even a frickin' dusty light bulb. It was beginning to get on his last nerve.

Sam, although vowing never to admit it, found some pleasure in the coldness sweeping over him. It made his sticking damp hair feel a little lighter and made his sweat a little cooler.

He didn't think much about the light bulb.

'What is this thing?' Dean spun around, trying to locate the invisible being whizzing around like a manic mosquito frantic for human blood. The whooshing air offered some indication of its whereabouts but it was so damn quick Dean feared shooting again would do nothing but only get the thing riled. They needed a plan, but first they needed to do some damn research. 'Let's get out of here.'

It was a simple solution yet one Sam held in high regard. If this was just another normal day, he'd stay and keep shooting at it, probably until all the rock salt was gone and they held in their hands nothing but weapons simply not designed to kill invisible monsters whose main ambition was to tease and then destroy them. If you couldn't kill the thing immediately, coming up with a plan allowed for a better outcome. Good idea.

As Dean hurried Sam along, he scooped up his keys and cell from the bench. The rest would wait. He felt for his wallet in his back pocket and when positive it was on him, continued to push his brother's back towards the door. Sam felt like telling him if he remembered anything, he remembered how to walk but refrained. As it stood now, he was humoring, so he might as well go the whole way and appease Dean sufficiently.

The door opening with ease shocked Dean and surprised Sam. Both expected a lock down. To have to kick it in for their chance of escape. This thing was making it easy for them. They didn't have time to appreciate the gesture. Dean shoved his brother out of the room and called out to Bobby while rushing to the Impala. 'Get in.'

Bobby? No, the old man wasn't a part of this.

'You got to keep with me Sam.'

_Was he really clicking his fingers? That won't send me flying back to reality Dean. It's going to take more than that._

'Get in the car. Hurry up.'

_Just Dean and him. No one else. Not Bobby, not Ruby, not dad._

_Oh yeah. Ruby and dad were dead. Okay then, not Bobby. Just Dean._

'What is up with you?' Dean's eyes brimmed over with nervous tension, almost flashing from fiery green to burning yellow. He frowned through the window confused. Should he jump in and drive, race over to Bobby's room and help the man out or smash through the motel room and try again to kill that invisible supernatural son of a bitch alone? So many options, so little answers.

And what was the deal with Sam? He seemed off guard.

'It's a defense mechanism.' Sam told him matter-of-factly, pulling the seat belt across his torso.

Dean shook his head and blinked. 'What is?'

'What I'm doing.' He told him before adding with a slight nod. 'Or what I'm not doing.'

And the decision was made. Dean's foot pumped metal before the door fully closed. 'Here's the plan. We get two more rooms at this other motel I saw before, we keep those ones so no one else has to deal with that crazy crap and we go back tomorrow night when we know what we're dealing with and kill that freaky invisible thing. What do you think?'

Sam nodded.

'Okay. Call Bobby and tell him to pack up his stuff and get the hell out of there. We'll call him when we have a proper address.'

Sam played along interested to see where all this was going. Invisible was genius really. Throwing them up against the unknown, unable to see what they were dealing with. Like really, how do you Google 'nothing'? You can't. Brilliant.

Speaking to Bobby was easier when he wasn't in the same room staring at you like you are the most disgusting disappointment to ever grace the earth. Dean calling out little extra tidbits of information here and there also helped. Speaker phones had their uses. It turned more into an exchange between the other two in the end leaving Sam sitting back silent and grateful. Maybe they should always use speaker phones. Sam was up for that.

Another crappy, beat down motel came into view alongside a grassy hill of the main road. Sam didn't believe a word when his brother informed him it was probably better than their last one. Not by the looks of it, but he didn't expect any different, nor did he mind. By age seven, all motel rooms blurred into one. This, he thought, had to be the longest day ever so ultimately, he smiled, happy to accept anything. All he wanted was a bed so he could pretend to sleep. Enjoy the time to both think about wild stuff and zone out in the quiet dark.

Bliss.

oOoOoOo

'Longest frigging day ever.' Dean sighed lying back on his wobbly bed by the window. Sam smirked at the similarity in their thoughts as he pulled off his boots. Pretty amateur that was. Pretty lame. He preferred more complex perplexity. Something to keep his mind running. If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right. There were prerequisites.

'So what room is Bobby in?' Sam asked his tense brother.

'Nineteen. Not as close. Around the corner.' Good. 'So Sam...' .' Dean sat up, stretched out his back and massaged his neck. If this headache would go, it would not be too soon. 'This defense mechanism thing? What did you mean?'

'Just to be okay with it all, you know?' It was hard to talk about it when he knew what it meant. A whole lot of nothing. Maybe that was a sign; that thing back in the motel room. Couldn't see it, couldn't hear it, could just feel it. It was nothing, just a feeling.

'No, I have no idea.'

With a sigh, Sam stood up and tore off his shirt. Still way too hot. Especially in this uncooled room, but peeling down the blankets didn't turn him off the idea of covering himself with them as soon as he slid in. 'Everyone needs something. Just like you. You have your own.'

'My own defense mechanism?'

'Yeah. You have lots of them. Probably more than me.'

Another pillow. One wasn't enough. Maybe in the cupboard.

Two in the cupboard. Great.

Sam threw one over to his bed and the other to his brother. 'Thanks.' Dean said distracted - processing some kind of thought. 'You've lost me.'

'It's late. Maybe it will make more sense in the morning.'

'Yeah maybe.' Dean wasn't convinced. Sam's weirdness was becoming weirder and he didn't much enjoy the out of character peace visibly washing over his brother's face when the time came for Sam to switch off the lamp. Nor did he like the idea of all those blankets smothering his newly healed body.

'It's hot.' Dean spoke carefully. 'Just use the sheet if you have to use anything.' Sometimes playing the big brother card annoyed him as much as it annoyed Sam but sometimes the risk was too great not to. Once he heard the younger man kick off his blankets he scanned the room. Maybe not pitch black but this room was a room tucked in a garden corner with no neon signs bursting through a break in the curtains like many others. This, much to Dean's dismay, made the room way too dark. He gave it a moment and listened. Then another. The very first hint of skin scraping against sheet he leant over to the bedside table and switched on the lamp.

Sam blinked a little, attempting to refocus. 'What's wrong?' Was the thing in here? Was there a sound he missed? Did it follow them here? Probably. It would make sense.

'Nothing.' Dean half-smiled both wearily and serenely.

'Then...?'

'Let's just sleep with the light on.'

oOoOoOo

Alone Dean and Sam sat, guns loaded, weapons on the bed by their sides, research completed. Answers and solutions not forthcoming but purpose and determination a-plenty. At least with Dean. Bobby stood by in room number nineteen at the other motel, laptop on hand, ready for calls to be fed further information for the sole purpose of feeding more back. They just needed something to happen. Just to get more of an idea. Just so Dean could end this thing and rid the world of one more monster polluting God's green earth.

It was dark. It was after ten and it was boring. The more hours that past the more restless Sam became, even and maybe especially in spite of Dean's constant demands to stay with him. This confused Sam. He was here wasn't he? Sitting, holding his gun, at least acting alert and ready. Did it matter if he fidgeted a little when absolutely nothing was happening? He thought not. Yet, he didn't complain; just made the effort to sit straighter, breathe in deeper and appear more dedicated to the cause.

Until he didn't realize the increasing slump in his shoulders, the interest in his stunted fingernails and the tapping of his foot.

'Sam!'

'What?'

Same thing. His mind used to be sharp. It probably still would be under any other situation. But this situation? It was hard to concentrate.

BANG!

Dean shot up searching for the stem of sound. Gun pointing up, down, to the left and then to the right. Sam imitated for appearance sake. Just to save any argument, only half interested in locating this inconvenient being.

'Come on you bitch!' Dean yelled into thin air still quick with his movements as he stalked the ten steps into the kitchen. 'Show yourself! Sam stay behind me.'

Why? What was that going to do? Shouldn't he stay exactly where he was to cover all areas? Doesn't matter. Sam followed watching Dean's actions more than his surroundings. Lucky Dean couldn't see him. He wouldn't be happy with that. Sam figured it best to at least pretend to want this thing as dead as Dean did. You know, he thought to himself, for appearance sake.

BANG! An invisible sound from across the other side of the room, near the door, close to the window. Dean whirled around, banging into the barrier that was Sam Winchester.

'Sam!' He didn't have the time or a margin for fumbling.

'You told me to stay behind you.'

Dean pushed past him and before Sam could take a step, Dean once again shouted an order. 'Stay behind me.'

'That's what I was doing and you-'

'Come on.'

Dean's confusion escalated. Nothing dropped. These bangs; they resulted from nothing and ended in less. He figured he should just shoot the place down just to get a possible and lucky hit. If his brother wasn't an inch away doing his best uncoordinated, awkward shuffle of a dance, he might have just gone right ahead and done so too.

Whoosh.

A shot fired.

A Winchester dropped.

The other Winchester yelled; the job suddenly touching him. 'Dean!'

'Why did you shoot me?' Dean was annoyed and hurting. Of all the dumbass things for his brother to do.

'Sorry.' Sam sighed in regretful relief while holding a hand out to help him up. If Dean was berating him, all was fine. He grabbed hold of his hand and Sam pulled him up with more strength than he knew he had. 'You okay?'

'No.' Dean frowned clutching his injured shoulder. Felt like shattered bones. That shot was close range. Dammit to hell. This is the frickin' last thing they needed. 'Do not shoot unless I tell you to or you see the thing okay? And –' Dean rolled his shoulder just to see if he could. 'Do not shoot me.'

'Okay. I know. Sorry.'

'You do know. So do what you know, okay?'

'Dean.' Sam glared behind his brother and swallowed. This being, this thing, this monster was no longer invisible. It stood directly behind Dean, snarling and smirking at the younger Winchester. Without hesitation, Dean twirled a half circle and shot into its smarmy, skeevy face.

A twitch of a finger was all it took to fling Dean across the room crashing into the table and breaking two chairs. Dean was down, the smashed timber lying heavy on top of him. This thing didn't suffer a bruise from the shot. Sam raised his gun, pointed it in its chest and pulled the trigger.

'I'm not a ghost.' The thing chuckled recovering from the non-effective force. Sam knew it wasn't a ghost but he forgot. Forgot what to do next. He glanced at Dean who once again struggled to stand to fight back. Broken bones often did not stop him and this was no exception. The thing should know this. It didn't. When it took a step towards him, Sam took a step back. He wasn't scared. Only he was a little, but also a bit fascinated.

First things first though; Dean.

'It's okay.' Sam told him. 'Just stay there.' His own voice even reassured himself somewhat. Somehow. 'I got this.'

You got nothing, Dean thought in a controlled panic as the monster that looked eerily like any other human gained on his brother. Dean was up. The thing waved a hand without looking back as it stalked towards the reversing Sam hurling Dean flat against the wall under the window.

'It's okay.' Sam told his brother again calmly. 'It's not real. You're fine.'

'It is real! This is real!' Jesus Christ. This is what this was? Dean thrashed some more knowing without a single doubt he had to get vertical and fast. Sam was in no position to fight this and win. The reality of the situation clearly blurred to him.

'It's just another vision. I'll get us out.'

As soon as Sam felt the sensation of heel against the chrome foot of his bed he fell into a sitting position and glanced down. It didn't matter the monster was at his toes with evil intentions, it didn't matter this Dean was still kicking about. It didn't even matter this was going to hurt like hell once again.

All that mattered was unwrapping these bandages so he could dig himself back out to the real world. The real world where his brother would be waiting for him. Not hurt, not angry, not pinned against a wall. Just waiting for him.

_(tbc..)_


	11. Chapter 11

**_Okay, this has been awhile. Sorry about the delay! Instead of making 1000+ excuses I will just thank those of you who are still reading - and reviewing - and adding to alerts / faves. You guys are the best! :) _**

**Chapter 11**

'Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica -'

An exorcism? Of course! If this was a real demon in the real world an exorcism would work. How smart of this Dean. Didn't matter if he couldn't move his body to beat the unbeatable, he would move his mouth. As Sam wildly spun the flimsy remains of the first bandage from his arm, he wondered if he should take the credit for that. This was all in his head right? So even if he didn't actually think to do it himself, he must have come up with it to make this imaginary-Dean try.

Right?

Or not. Maybe Lucifer threw him another game. Simply to present him with false hope only to tear it from his grasp at the last second. He'd enjoy that. He'd laugh.

Anyway, no time to think about those kinds of things. The flash of silver blade rising above the dark haired monster-man brought him back to the urgency of the situation. Ripping apart skin must be priority.

Dean continued, his voice strained, his Latin still needing work. Just as Sam imagined it would be. He considered visualizing this blade away. Making it disappear right into thin air like magic. Magic in a vision wasn't all that bizarre.

Unless it was Lucifer. If it was Lucifer that blade was mere seconds away from plunging directly through his head.

A disturbing realization; finger nails slashing into sliced up skin worked a whole lot better than fingernails digging into healed skin. Too many problems here.

'Sam!' Dean interrupted his exorcism to yell his name. Sam glanced over at him compassionately. Even fake-Dean pressed injured against a wall tore at his heart. He slammed his eyes shut and heard his brother's demand. 'Don't you dare!'

Don't you dare what? Surely scratching into arms won over certain death. Why did any-Dean insist on having a problem with everything? Made things all the more difficult.

'Ergo draco maledicte –' His fake-brother carried on, desperation oozing. Sam remained skeptical, unsure if the panic flooding his ears resulted from the knife or the fingernails. What did his mind tell him? Maybe both. Even fake Dean would stress and worry with every move Sam did or didn't make...Even in fake land.

A moan erupted from the thing standing in front of him. Sam pressed deeper into his skin positive at this point cutting through remained an impossible task with nails this blunt. What else was around? And what, pray tell was taking so long with the evil son of a bitch and the knife? This was all really weird and nothing like his other visions. Pain seemed to be taking its sweet-ass time with this one. No complaints there but the unpredictability unsettled him.

His eyes found his way up to the black-eyed bastard. The sight shocked him. Why was it shaking, seemingly fighting against Dean's words, forcing itself to stay earthbound? Without flinching or moving, Sam's gaze followed the fall of the knife. He frowned; unaware of the red marks and white indents burning his forearm. His grip tightened. What the hell?

Dean continued voice thick with purpose. Sam felt the weight of the middle-aged man thump against his shins before forcing his mind to catch up. A fallen knife, a body dropping and a black cloud of whirling smoke whooshing past him?

He forgot to watch the thing escape and didn't feel Dean finally manage to stand and move over to him. His mind once again too slow to process. Only when he felt his hand being snatched from his right arm and heard a wince so close to his face did he realize Dean was less than a foot away.

'It was a demon?' Probably a stupid question but a legitimate one. Sam scanned the room seeing nothing but normal, his eyes eventually landing on his unimpressed, concerned and wounded brother.

'You and me.' Dean stated while clutching his shoulder for dear life. 'We gotta talk.'

oOoOoOo

'Dean, we have to call Cas to heal your shoulder.' Sam broke the ten minute silence eyeing his brother's fight to manage the Impala. Driving this slowly and awkwardly surely had to be as dangerous as Sam taking the wheel. However Dean stood firm and voiced his own opinion on the matter. Too high a risk. Sam not at all stable and Dean, in extreme pain or not remained the only one to get them to the motel safely. Case closed. His only guarantee.

At the sound of another whisper of a groan, Sam glanced down at his fingers. 'And anything else that's hurt.'

'We're not calling Cas.' Dean flicked the indicator causing the Impala to swerve. Driving left handed while every movement stabbed like a bitch was a freaking nightmare but it was the only way. 'We need to call Bobby to deal with that body.'

'I'll do that.' Sam peeled his phone from his front jeans pocket and swallowed the dead lump in his throat. Of all the insane, crazy things to do. Jesus. What happened to him back there? Positive he was losing his mind, he shook his head demanding self-hating thoughts evacuate the frazzled premises. He had to get it together. Dean was hurting bad and it was all his fault. He took himself out of the game, left Dean to fight alone and offered no back up. What kind of hunter did that make him? But worse, what kind of brother?

'Then can you do it?' Dean broke his trance. Sam sighed but at himself. So much for ignoring those kinds of thoughts and keeping his head on the crucial thing here. Hopeless. Just God-dammed hopeless. 'Sam?'

'Yeah. Sorry.'

The civil-all-business call with Bobby appeared to ease Dean's demeanor somewhat and took a detail off his mind. That was something at least. He did one thing right. Now to fix the issue needing to be fixed first. Sam scrolled to Castiel's phone number helplessly forgetting cell range didn't often reach heaven.

'No.' Dean growled trying his hardest not to bite down on his lip after the involuntary jerk of his neck. 'Don't.' Almost home. Just straight up that hill with a sharp left into the driveway. Sounded easy enough, but another struggle lay ahead. He took a breath. Soon conversations could hit the surface of this mess. Soon enough.

'I'll just tell him to meet us in the room.'

'No.'

_Why?_ Sam frowned, confused. 'Why not?'

'Because-' Dean checked the rear vision mirror. No cars behind him, no pressure. No one needing to be slowed down because his little brother went into la-la land and scared the hell out of him. Good. His foot eased down on the brake. 'We're not calling in Cas to fix this Sam.'

'Fix you I mean. Not this.'

'He's not fixing anything.'

'Dean, you're hurt.'

'And I'm going to stay hurt.'

No. No, no. 'No, you're not. He can fix you and –'

'And what? Make everything alright again? So no matter what happens, no matter what you do – or don't do, you always have him to fix it all? You could have been killed back there. It was that close and all you wanted to do was scratch your arms.' The car stopped. Neither noticed.

'I thought it was a vision. I'm sorry. I just – I thought if I did what I did in the others, I could get us out.' The kid was panicking, stressing. Too hard to watch so Dean turned his face towards the windshield and continued straight ahead. 'Dean, don't punish me by punishing yourself. '

The car halted once more. Dean spun his head around to his brother, frown lines indenting his forehead. 'Sam I am not punishing anyone.'

'Then let Cas heal you. Please.'

'No.'

'Dean.'

'No!'

That 'No' was too damn definite and pretty aggressive. Sam clammed up but reached over to assist with the turn of the wheel regardless of Dean's grumbled but half-hearted protests. If there was one thing the younger Winchester wanted to argue it was this. Though the swirling muddle of his mind bewildered him. How many times had he argued with Dean and how many times had he actually been right? How could he convince him this time he was? And was he? Really? Didn't he think this every time? It always seemed right to him. Never seemed wrong but always ended up being just that.

But Dean in pain? How could this be the right thing? It wasn't.

Was it?

No. Surely it wasn't.

Home sweet-ugly home at last. Dean Winchester interrupted his sigh of relief with another frown. His double take provided no further information. This was definitely their room right? Yes, the room key-tag matched the gold plated number on the door. He also remembered that single yellow rose sticking crooked in a pot under the window. Definitely the right room.

Then...?

He felt his car door open before realizing Sam no longer sat beside him like a spooked out kitten. A big hand reached into his personal space. Peering up at his little brother, he scoffed. 'If I can drive, I can get out of the damn car.'

Sam nodded once and took a step back - and sometimes Dean wished he could curb his bluntness. Even if the mere sight of his brother offering any kind of help in his condition seemed nothing short of ridiculous to him, it didn't necessarily mean the same to Sam.

'You know,' Dean started with a strained expression. I didn't open those curtains before we left. Did you?'

Sam dragged the packed bags from the back seat of the car and flung them easily over his shoulder. He deserved the pain, not his brother who was fumbling and struggling to even get the key upright. He glanced at the window and shrugged. 'Maybe? I don't know.'

True that. Sam wasn't up to remembering much of anything at this point and explanations of the happenings at this motel wasn't the important thing here. He stepped forward carefully.

Damn, this shoulder hurt. And the other. Everything hurt. Even pushing in the key not to mention opening the door frickin' hurt. Usually their doors felt thin and flimsy contradicting the sheer design of keeping anything in let alone out, but not this one, no siree, this one had to be the heaviest he'd ever come across. Typical.

'Take a seat.' Dean ordered as he studied his surroundings, studying every mere detail. Nothing else seemed out of place. Everything appeared exactly as they left it, even down to his white burger wrapper lying half scrunched on his bed. Oh God, was that dry cheese stuck to his blanket? Gross.

Sam chose to slump on the end of his bed. Dean chose to ease himself down on a kitchen chair; the straightness of the back supporting his body. They stared at each other. Sam guilt ridden, Dean unimpressed. Both concerned – for the other.

Dean spoke first. 'Dude, what went down back there?'

Sam never intended for his shrug to come off so nonchalantly. He watched as Dean's chest rose with a sharp intake of breath and felt his guts plummet. The time called for him to speak so speak he had to. 'I just thought it was another vision'

And that's what you do in your visions? Basically nothing?' Sam might have shaken his head ready to respond but Dean jumped in first, 'Except for trying to hurt yourself? I thought you at least fought whatever was happening to you.'

'I do.'

'Not this time.'

Sam noticed the sadness in his brother's eyes. It felt like they matched his own. 'That's why I was trying to scratch – To fight my way out.'

'That's not fighting. That's giving in. You sat in front of a demon and all you did was try to draw your own blood.'

'It's the only thing I know to do to get out.'

'But this wasn't a vision Sam.'

'I thought it was.'

'But it wasn't!' If he could, Dean would thump the table. He wanted to, with all his being he wanted to and Sam knew it. That was the only consolation. 'It was real and in real life you know what to do.'

'But I don't know how I can tell! It feels exactly the same.'

'So either way you fight it. You first try what you know and if that doesn't work, you try again. '

'I forget what I know.' Sam sat forward, flustered. 'I was all scrambled. I still am. Dean, I don't know what is going on with me. I don't know when or where it's going to end and what to do when it does. All I know is it will.' He closed his eyes. 'And when it does, if it is by something like that, it is better than...' No, don't say it. Because when it does, it will be Dean who is left helpless, wondering, thinking the worst, knowing the worst.

And that was just not fair.

'I thought... ' He continued, 'you were okay out here and my mind or Lucifer created you over there. I would have done more if I knew it was real.' Swallowing didn't solve a damn thing but regardless he swallowed a second time. 'I'm so sorry.'

Dean squinted concentrating on the hell-torn shadow of a man sitting in front of him. Honestly, he felt like throwing up.

'I should have done more, I know.' Sam took a moment to shift a little of his regret. It didn't work. Neither did making eye contact so he looked away. Found a mark on the wall in the shape of a black bug and focused on that. 'But I can do more now. If you just let me call Cas-'

'No. I told you, no way.'

'But you're hurt and pretty bad. You can hardly move.'

'I'll heal.' Dean stated thickly. 'Eventually.'

Sam buried his head in his hands. His next words came out as a mumble while his fingers ran through his hair. 'Why do that to yourself? To prove a point to me?' Pulling away made him feel that more vulnerable but the adrenalin running through him urged him on. 'Because I get it Dean, I do. I will try harder, I swear.'

'The point I am trying to get through to you is there aren't always going to be magic wands and quick fixes. Scratching at yourself until you bleed cannot be an option. It doesn't work like that. We have to go in as us. Just us.'

'But your pain-'

'I'll take pills.'

'It's not enough.'

'It has to be. It's all anyone else has.'

'Anyone else doesn't have to do what we have to do.'

'You can never forget we are humans Sam. Just humans. We have to fight this crap. Never give up. Never just throw up your hands and take the easy way out.'

Sam raised his eyebrows and held out his marked arms. 'You think this is the easy way out?'

'No.' Dean said definitely, straightening his back regardless of the pain shooting up his spine. All he wanted to do was help him, fix this, but he needed his brother to fight for it too. 'But you do.'

_(To be continued...)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Hi! This chapter was started waaaaaaaay before 7.03. This is in no way in response to that or any other episode. That is my disclaimer :) _

**Chapter 12**

Temptation. Luring. There lay the key. Innocently flung on the bench by a brother who trusted. His car parked only mere footsteps from the door. It wouldn't take much. And not a lot of time. He could be out of there before Dean even opened one eye.

To do it, to give into that temptation would mean he'd learnt nothing. Suffered insurmountably but learnt nothing. What was the point? No, he wouldn't grab the key and make a run for the car. No matter what his intentions because intentions didn't earn you squat, nothing but bad anyway.

And really, it wasn't the answer. He couldn't pull that crap with Dean again. Nor would he stir his brother who peaceful in sleep would only wake to sheer pain. Sam tossed his used, wet towel through the bathroom doorway and watched it land over the edge of the tub. Good shot, if he aimed. His eyes turned to his brother and then to his shoes. This fresh idea screwed with his guts but it was the only other idea he could muster.

One shoe pulled on without a single movement from Dean. Good. If only he could take his time, build up his courage and move slowly, but the fear of Dean's catching him and the questions which would result only gave him incentive to hurry.

A final check of his resting brother. His eyes lightly closed, his body covered in only a sheet. Another searing hot morning. Sam felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck while pressing on the button of the remote control. At least if Dean woke up, he'd wake up to cool air rather than the burning heat of the sun already bursting through the curtains.

One last thing to do before he left. Pick up a pen and scribble down his message on the back of his folded burger wrapper.

Careful to lay the paper quietly under the lamp on the bedside table, he felt a familiar pang of guilt as he took his first sneaky step. Sam hated this feeling, with a passion. But at least, he thought looking at the Impala, Dean's baby was still there for him. Familiarity close by, even when alone.

Closing the door behind him was closing the door on safety, on comfort but on pain. He had to step forward, keep walking, move on. Passing the car was the hard part. It was just sitting there, almost begging him to climb in and drive, but this was one rule he refused to break. For once.

So he continued, not looking back, only looking forward. The sun had risen hours ago. Another load of sticky air slapped down on his shoulders. He was sick of the heat but more than that, he was sick of his life.

This feeling – these feelings, they were going to do him in. How long could he stay strong enough to go on? And even if he wanted to, even if he felt the power within him, how long could he fight and win? Dean made it clear this is what he had to do, but Sam, Sam wasn't sure just how possible it was.

His destination sprung up on him way too quickly. And still he stood. Sweat drenching him but no longer due to the heat.

This was crazy...and insane.

He was both.

Taking a breath and raising a fist only made his anxiety increase. But still he knocked attempting to prepare himself before the door could open.

Didn't work. Bobby had flung the thing so far back it cracked the interior wall as it banged. 'Sam.' He was on his way out. Probably to the store. For milk or something.

'Hi.'

Bobby smiled. One of his slight, wary yet hopeful smiles. 'Come in. How's Dean?'

'Asleep.' Sam replied standing by the door. This wasn't a social call and he couldn't have Bobby thinking it was. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine.' God this was hard. Why was this so hard? Sam couldn't understand why everything felt so God damned heavy inside. 'Umm, I have to ask you…'

'Anything.'

'Pills. I need pills for Dean. We're out and I was going to go to the store but then I thought Dean might wake up and freak that the Impala was gone and think I took off on him when all I wanted to do was buy him some pills.' He realized he was babbling but nothing could stop him, not even Bobby's concerned frown. 'So I thought you might have some - any. Like anything that would stop his pain when he woke up. Or maybe you could go and get him some and I could wait back in the room. Or I could go and you could wait. '

'I've got a few here.'

'Yeah. Cause they're for Dean - and all.' Why did he say that? He pondered this as Bobby nodded his head once and turned towards his bag on the furthest bed. Maybe because he knew he'd do it for Dean.

Maybe because Dean made it worth wanting to do it for.

Bobby handed him the packet. This was all wrong; the tension between them, the awkwardness, the distance. 'Sam-'

'Thanks. I better go. He might wake up.' Sam offered a small but grateful smile and turned on his heels, eager to break away.

'You need anything?' Bobby called after him. 'I'm going to the store. You want some more pills? Food? You want me to pick up a few things for you boys?'

Yes. Yes he did, but Sam could only nod. And Bobby understood. He wouldn't push. He would wait. And try a little harder each time.

Because to him, Sam was worth it too.

0O0o0O0

If ever Dean Winchester felt like punching a hole through this crap bed head, it was now. And he would have too if he could have. The pills only worked a little and so did Sam trying to fuss all over him, but he appreciated the sentiment and even managed a little smile when he was handed two slices of toast.

But something was worrying him, not sitting right and it was more than the two of them, bigger even. Just a feeling, a gut instinct that Dean learnt long ago never to ignore. Yet he continued to try, because in his condition and with Sam the way he was, they were basically out of action. Both of them. And he couldn't call Bobby in. Not when Sam couldn't even stand to be around him.

The crisp sound of his younger brother snatching up a burger wrapper pierced his ear and shook him from his thoughts. Sam had that guilty look on his face but Dean didn't think to ask what it meant. He simply took a bite of his buttered toast and leant back on the crap headboard. What he would do for a shower. He pondered the idea of calling in Cas to secretly heal him. How good an actor was he? Could he pretend to hurt? Fake an injury so Sam wouldn't lose a lesson. No, not a lesson. That was harsh. Just so Sam would understand. Get his fight back.

He wondered.

Cause this pain hurt like a mother...

'We're down to two pills. Bobby's picking up some more.'

'You spoke to Bobby?' Dean's attempt at hiding his shock failed. He felt his own jaw drop and eyes widen.

'This morning. When you were asleep.' Sam held up the wrapper as he scrunched it in his hand a bit tighter before throwing it in the trash. 'This was your note.'

Dean nodded. A step. A step forward. He concealed a slight grin. 'How'd that go?'

Sam spun a kitchen chair around and took a seat, leaning his arms on the back of it. 'Quickly.'

This toast wasn't bad. Good in fact but that wasn't what lifted his spirits. The thought of Sam facing his fears and braving Bobby caused the burst of hope to overpower his chest.

Sam frowned and Dean guessed the Bobby-conversation was over. 'How are you doing? You don't look the best.'

'Fine. I'm fine'

'Because...'

And so it starts again, Dean thought. Sam had that look. One of those looks where he knew this wasn't going to go down well but his stubborn-ass mouth was going to say it anyway. 'I think we should call a doctor in to check you out.' His words fell faster as Dean's back stiffened in protest. 'At the very least. If you won't let me call in Cas, let me call in a doctor. You can't just go on without treatment Dean. A normal person would see a doctor.'

'I don't want to see a doctor. I hate doctors. They get all touchy-feely and have no concept of personal space. It's creepy. The pills will be fine. They'll kick in.'

The one, sharp knock on the door might have interrupted the discussion but in no way had Sam finished with it. He stood, ignoring any build up of anything negative and stepped over to the door. Bobby entered with a smile but narrowed his eyes when he laid them on Dean. 'You're pale.' He handed the plastic covered packet of meds to Sam and flung some packed shopping bags on the counter. 'You ever think of seeing a doctor?'

'That's what I was just saying.' Sam fumbled to peel the sticky-as-all-hell sticker from the packet with no fingernails. In seconds he gave up and tossed the packet back to Bobby to take care of.

'Although with that flat tire out there, you aint gonna get too far. You up to changing it Sam? I'll give you a hand.'

'What flat tire?' Dean made a move to get up. Sam reached out an arm that stopped him as he moved out the door. There was no flat tire first thing in the morning. Of that he was sure. Not positive, he didn't inspect any of the car as he scooted past it and back, but still, he was pretty sure.

'Maybe a nail?' That was Sam's best bet even though he didn't find any indication of a nail. But there were always the parts he couldn't see. Didn't matter to him anyway. It was flat and Dean was about to blow a gasket so it needed to be changed and quick.

'Tell me you have a spare.' Bobby asked Sam.

Sam looked over at Dean. 'Yes, we have a spare.' The older Winchester wasn't up for this crap. Something was wrong with his baby and whether he could drive it or not, he needed it fixed. And now.

'We'll deal with it. You just stay there. Relax. Take it easy.'

'No offense Sam, but...no way.'

'It's just a tire Dean.'

'How about -' Bobby started determined to break the building tension where both boys were just about to take all words personally. He'd seen it a million times before. 'You take Dean to the doctors in my truck and I'll stay here and change the tire.'

'Sounds good to me.'

'I told you. No doctors.'

'Dean-'

'Sam, I don't need a doctor. I need the Impala fixed.'

'Do you understand how hypocritical that sounds? You need the Impala fixed, you need me fixed but you won't ever fix yourself.'

'Oh God. Here we go. You're really going to turn this into some psycho-analytical crap? Really?'

'Boys-'

'Tell him Bobby.'

Bobby was stuck. For a split second he caught Sam looking him dead in his eyes. Pure eye contact. The old strong-minded, strong-willed and simply strong Sam. How could he argue against that? Everything he wanted wrapped up in one perfect parcel but potentially gone again in a flash. Then there was Dean, just wanting his car fixed. Purely and simply. Struggling to appear okay when he clearly wasn't.

'Sam, take my keys. Dean go to the doctor. The car will be perfect when you get back.'

Dean huffed; Sam snatched the keys from the bench and moved to the bathroom. Neither men exchanged another word but upon his return, the strong Sam was gone and a different, whiter version emerged.

'What?' Dean frowned, his feet almost touching the floor.

'My towel. It's hanging on the rail.'

**_Okay, so as you all know, the show has caught up with me somewhat. This story is taking me ages and much longer than I ever expected. Please let me know if there are people out there still wanting me to continue? I understand if no one does. No point continuing if no one wants to read it. lol. _**

**_Hope everyone is well and enjoying Season 7!_**


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who reviewed._

_Here is the next chapter. Hope everyone had a great Christmas and a fantastic new year!_

**Chapter 13**

Sam Winchester gripped the steering wheel with sweaty hands. He listened again to his brother's feeble attempt at convincing him the towel didn't move by itself. It was in fact Sam who moved it and he just...probably forgot.

Sam remained unsure. He didn't remember, but that wasn't exactly strange considering his state. Speaking of, Sam took a double take. The road ahead seemed different and not because he was in unfamiliar territory. That wasn't it. It was more than that. They changed course on the way back, that was true and it was blurry yes, but suddenly nothing felt real anymore. Everything appeared dream-like and false.

He looked for trees. There were none. Checked for any sign of life. Saw nothing. Glanced to his right to ground himself in his brother. No one there, but Dean's words coming from that exact spot shocked him to the very core.

'Sam, concentrate.'

'Dean. Pull over.'

'What?'

'Pull the car over.' Sam searched for his brother again. The passenger seat of the Impala empty. Sam shivered in spite of the steaming heat.

'I can't pull over. You need to pull over.' Poor Dean stricken with confusion and panic. He knew. Knew something was wrong because something always was. Sam pictured the frown which almost creased permanently in the centre of his brother's forehead. Sometimes he wanted to wipe it away. Clear it. He just never knew how.

'Yeah. Okay.' Sam breathed, guiding the car into newly formed starkness and dust.

'Dude! Watch the tree! Jesus!'

'What tree? I don't see a tree. I don't even see you Dean. Something is happening. Take the wheel.'

'What do you mean? I can't. Just stop already. Put your foot down harder on the brake and stop.'

The thump wasn't a mammoth one but forceful enough to break a headlight and stress Sam. Still seeing nothing but black dirt, mist and open space ahead he once again turned and spoke his words to the dirty window. 'What did I do? Is the Impala okay?' He felt sick with dread.

'We're not in the Impala. Remember? We're in Bobby's truck. Sam, tell me what is going on with you.'

Dean knew this wasn't a good idea. From the start. He had no idea why he even agreed to going to the doctor's or letting Sam drive the twenty-five minutes to and from the medical centre. Stupid frickin' thing to do and now they were in this position. Sam zoning out, him unable to help due to an arm held firm in a sling and Bobby's truck with a busted headlight. At best.

Sam's eyes flickered as his head shot left.

'What?' Dean asked carefully.

'Did you see that? That shadow dash past the Impala?'

'Sam I told you. We're not in the Impala.'

'There it is again. Wait here.'

Dean's mouth fell open as Sam's hand shot to the door handle. 'No way. Don't even think about getting out ...Sam!'

Too late, Sam was on solid ground and moving straight towards the bulky, swaying tree he just seconds before crashed into before Dean could even unclick his seatbelt.

'Sam! Listen to me. For one God damn second!'

And he did. He stopped. Dean breathed out but could only watch in failed hope as Sam turned and stalked off to the left on a determined mission. Just like a sniffer dog. Just like Sam Winchester.

The stiff struggle out of the truck slowed him. Dean grimaced and for mere seconds lost all eye contact with his stubborn-as-hell brother as he tripped on the uneven earth. It was all it took. Sam was out of sight. Broad daylight, only those two around, a few trees and he was out of sight. Only Sam.

'Sam! It's a vision. Stop!' Dean screamed into thin air, gripping his shoulder but wanting to grab onto his ankle. 'It's not real!' God damn it.

The shadow taunted Sam. Howcome things moved so fast nowadays? Only flashes of a thick black swirl sped by him but every one just that bit further into the open, black desert. It was luring him. Sam knew that in spite of his self-owned insanity. This thing was mysterious though. And probably dangerous. Nothing attracted Sam more than mysterious and dangerous. He squinted, not fighting the truth.

'Sam!'

Dean; his invisible anchor. If only he could see him, know where he was. Maybe that could stop him from following the unknown's lead.

'Sam! Please!'

Or maybe that shaky shriek would. Dean still in pain, invisible or not. That would always stop him.

Another black, velvet ribbon of something unexplainable flew past him. Less than an inch away.

Another demon?

Maybe.

But this being wasn't smoky. Or cloudy.

Was it even real?

Probably not.

Sam darted his head towards the voice calling his name. So many things going on at once yet still helplessly stuck in some unreal land in his mind. Even the sound of the wind blowing through the unseen leaves hurt his head.

His body fought to lie down. Just lie down and curl up within himself. Hiding from craziness and perceived isolation. Hiding until he could figure out what to do. Dean's words ran through his head faster than the black mist circling him. _Fight back_. Dean told him to fight. This time he had to because this time Dean needed him to get them friggin' home.

'Just stay where you are. Don't move!'

Okay. He could do that. He took his time to sit on the flat ground beneath his feet yet didn't flinch in surprise when bumpy rock met his posterior. After a slight stumble, he felt his way to a comfortable and stable position and waited. He was literally losing his mind. All over again.

Dean spotted Sam way off in the distance. The kid moved fast. That was the problem here. He weighed up the best way to ease down a large dip in the landscape to get to him quicker. Everything was that much more difficult with this damn sling on. He needed to steady his balance to manipulate his way down a step at a time. Maybe he had to take the long way. Nothing new. They always had to take the long way.

So Sam decided. Pain wasn't the answer anymore. Not the answer suitable to him or Dean. Yet he needed to escape this. Needed to find another way. A better way. His booming ringtone burst through his jeans pocket. Sam felt for his phone, but in this vision, the phone was as inaccessible as reality. Dean would have to find it. He was close. Sam could hear his footsteps.

'Okay.' Dean said finally reaching him, 'You alright?'

Sam nodded and lifted his head sure the freaky sight of nothing would terrify him further. The shock when he laid eyes on his frantic brother almost knocked him off the rock. 'I can see you.' Sam nodded and smiled. 'I'm okay, I can see you now.'

Dean returned the smile, relief overpowering. This was a short one. A potentially dangerous one, but a short one. With no injury as a result. Could he tick this off as an improvement? Maybe. Whatever. Just as long as Sam was okay and back with him.

'You ready to go back? I think it's best if we call Bobby and get him to pick us up though.'

'Yeah. Good call.' Sam stood and turned to spot the damage on Bobby's van. 'That was you just calling me?' Simultaneously he felt for his phone with both hands landing on two unexpected empty pockets and locating the Impala with a smashed in front end, not as far off as it should be. 'Oh God.'

'What?'

'I don't think I'm out.'

'Huh?'

'I'm not out. I don't have my phone and the car I see is still the Impala.'

Dean's helpless and devastated expression almost broke Sam in two. The person who least deserved crap like this never failed to cop it. It wasn't fair. 'I'm sorry.'

'But it's Bobby's van. Can't you see it's –?' Dean glanced back at where they'd come from and flinched. '..The Impala.'

'You see it too?'

'What does that mean?' Dean shot back around and asked in panic.

'Umm, either I have actually gone insane or – you are in my vision with me.'

'Box number one sounds more likely.'

'So, taking our lives into consideration, that means you…'

'-are in your vision with you.' Dean finished for them, eyes wide and mortified.

'Call Bobby.'

Dean's hand moved to his left pocket, then his right. After discovering just as empty back pockets, he let out an angry sigh. Just like Sam no phone could be reached.

'Oh, great. Fantastic.' Sam complained, guilt prickling at him at the newfound level of comfort and confidence he felt with his big brother by his side. It wasn't just himself he had to save now, nor did he have to it alone.

'How is this possible?' Dean frowned in confusion.

'Didn't you stop asking that a long time ago?'

Dean noticed the spark back in Sam; no longer horrified and hopeless. He wasn't sure whether to hug the guy or hit him. 'Okay, so what? Obviously this is some crazy plan for some …_Crazy_. So, now what?'

'Your arm still hurting?'

'Yeah. We still got that.' Dean chimed aggressively with his best faux smile.

'Oh.' There goes that then. The least the vision could have done was take away his brother's injury. Make it an even playing field, but no. Of course not.

Dean scrutinized his surroundings; flat and dry ground, blue sky; still burning heat and not a single tree in sight. 'So how does this go?'

'I don't know. Every one is different but they all feel just as real.' Sam's head flick unsuccessfully moved a hair from his eyes. 'I guess we just remember it's not.'

'So like, maybe we aren't even here right now yeah? Like, what...?' Dean thought back to when he sat on the other side, watching Sam, trying to help him with mere words, seeing him in the real world while Sam was someplace else in his mind; motionless, glazed off, vulnerable. 'Maybe, the real us is sitting back in Bobby's van and -'

Suddenly the long line of blackness whooshed between them causing Dean to lunge backwards. 'What the hell was that?' He said while steadying himself.

'You saw it?'

'That's what you saw? What is it?'

'A demon? I think.'

'Funny interpretation of a demon Sam.' Nevertheless, Dean spun his head determined not to lose sight of it. 'The same thing that's playing in our room do you think?'

'I thought you said there was nothing in our room.'

'Of course I said that. What else was I going to say?' Sam frowned, only slightly perplexed. Dean shook his head while continuing to watch this flying substance of something buzz around their bodies purely to mock them. 'I was going to kill it myself. Leave you out of it.'

'Good plan.' Sam retorted sarcastically rolling his eyes. 'You know Dean, I get that you were trying to protect me and all but like I always say, protection involves preparation...and knowledge.'

'You never say that.'

'Well, I do now.'

'Noted.' Dean tightened his jaw in annoyance when a low, muffled noise escaped from somewhere out of the unknown being. 'Dude, we have no weapons, nothing to kill this thing with.'

'I know,' Sam nodded, also checking his surroundings in the hope of finding anything that could possibly help them. Nothing. Not even a stone. Just flat dirt. 'So, I guess we just…Buckle up.'

By the appearance of Dean's face, he seemed to be doing anything but buckling up. Eyes still focused, he leaned in towards his brother as if to whisper something. Sam tilted his head towards him, eager to hear. 'How the hell do we get out of here?'

Managing a breath, Sam straightened and with a shrug, answered in two words and two words only; 'We fight.'

A sarcastic laugh reverberated through the stifled air. Dean almost expected the devil himself to emerge from the black streak. Sam did. He knew that laugh. Knew it all too well. He was coming. Again. For both of them.

'You know,' Dean mused as he ripped off his sling, ignoring the searing pain it invoked. 'sometimes even I hate my stupid advice.'

_(TBC) - soon hopefully._


	14. Chapter 14

_**So many apologies for the massive delay in this chapter. I think I am back in the swing now. **_

_**Thank you so much for those who are still reading! **_

**Chapter 14**

Sam Winchester dared a glance at his older brother. Jaw clenched, tense shoulders; simultaneously on the attack and defence before anything even appeared in front of them. This could be of great assistance, this could bring about some real results but it could also lead them both straight to disaster if not handled properly. Sam had no idea which destination seemed more likely.

'Hi guys!' And here he was, the devil himself in all his wonderful human glory. 'Sammy, you brought your brother in to join us. How very thoughtful of you. I love a party.'

Before either could muster an answer, day turned to night, creepy, rotting and thick trees appeared in haphazard positions throughout the now grassy field and black, lit lanterns hung from the bent and unattractive branches. 'Nice ambience, don't you think?'

'What is this?' Dean snarled, only taking a split second to absorb his new surroundings. 'How are you even here?'

Sam peered at the devil, intrigued at his answer. All this time he never once thought to ask that particular question.

'What? You think only parts of Sammy came out of the pit?' He snorted. 'That's pretty Winchester-absorbed if I do say so myself Dean.'

'You're saying…?'

'I'm saying,' He interrupted with smug impatience, 'You don't need all of me here to have me here – If you get my meaning.'

'No, not really.'

Sam understood. The devil didn't require a soul to function, didn't even require a body. He was his own entity capable of much, much more than any mere mortal. He stood here because he could. He held the power to manifest brutal alternate realities and plonk you right bang in the center of them with just a flick of his otherworldly hand. And once in them, the possibility to ever escape became minimal.

'Don't worry your pretty little head about it.' Lucifer waved, 'It's party time and I'm eager for you to see the kind of games your Sammy and I like to play.' He clapped his hands together and smiled. 'Your choice Sam. You want a) Slice and dice; b) Choose your own hellfire adventure; c) Meet the parents, d) Scratch and–'

'Okay, enough!' Dean's snarl reverberated right through Sam's head causing him to flinch a little. It didn't seem to have the same effect on the devil.

'A?' Lucifer questioned Sam, 'You know that's my own personal favorite. Slashing flesh into pretty little ribbons? It just gives me chills all over.'

Dean spoke without thinking, 'Screw you and your sadistic little games. You're not getting him.'

Lucifer let out a sigh. Dean Winchester had such a mouth on him, such an attitude even when he didn't have a card left to play. The younger brother, with all that delicious wall-crumbling damage, he knew, he learnt. You simply cannot beat the devil.

'A it is!'

'You son of a bitch! You leave him alone!'

Suspended from the lowest branch of the highest tree suddenly dangled a familiar, scorching cage sized large enough to hold a solo, crouching human. Sam swallowed his sheer panic. For Dean's sake he forced himself to stand strong and silent.

'You know what?' Lucifer sneered. 'I will NEVER leave him alone. You know why? Because he is all mine. But you know something? I've had my fun with him in that cage many-a-pleasurable time. And you know what I want now? To torture him through torturing you.'

Sam lurched forward, understanding all too quickly but all too late. Terrified for his now vanished brother, he halted dead in his tracks, looked up higher than his arms could reach and watched as a grimacing Dean hopped from one foot to the other. Lucifer pounced to shackle his ankles and wrists before Dean unwillingly let out a spine-tingling scream.

'No!' Sam yelled knowing how pitiful and powerless that one word was in this world. It meant nothing to this beast even though it meant everything to him.

'Now the real fun begins.' Lucifer cackled, claws snapping free and arms rising.

Sam clamped his eyes shut and rolled up his sleeves. He was sorry, sorry and devastated Dean was present to witness this. He wanted to fight, but how could he fight when the only weapons available were fake branches out of reach? How could he fight when his opposition was the devil himself? How could he fight when he was nothing more than a piece of nothingness; death being too good for him?

Dean's screams affirmed his intentions. To get him out of this pure torture was of vital importance and nothing else mattered. Dean being hacked into strips, blood splattering and dripping all over Sam's shoulders and chest made Sam's rough scratches not even register in the realm of minor inconvenience.

'Sam! No, don't!' Dean managed to growl through gritted teeth.

'I have to.'

'Sammy, come on.' Lucifer chimed in, causing Sam to dig deeper. 'Don't ruin the fun. I have a whole millennia set aside for this.'

These damn blunt nails. White scratches accomplished nothing. He needed more. Eyes darting, thoughts swirling, he raced to the trunk of the tree and rubbed his forearms mercilessly, drawing surface blood almost immediately.

'You know, this isn't going how I wanted it to go. You are spoiling everything Sam.' He frowned and pondered for a second, delighting in his new idea. 'How about C?'

John Winchester appeared from behind the largest of trees. Sam winced and closed his eyes but continued, continued until the devil deleted the tree and the cage fell to the ground, no longer hot, Dean no longer slashed or shackled.

With his sore shoulder burning deeper than any fire, Dean grasped the bars and shook like a madman.

Lucifer smiled at the older Winchester and held a finger to his lips. 'Sh, shh, shh. This is very entertaining Dean. It's classic drama. You like angst? Personally I am an angst fan.'

'Sam, this isn't real. Nothing here is real.' Dean breathed determined to recover rapidly from his agonizing ordeal and get his mind straight to help his struggling brother. 'Just remember that.'

John stood still summing up his two sons. Sam waited, glancing from his father to his brother. He wanted Dean out of that Godforsaken cage and wanted to block his ears from John.

'If that was you in that cage,' John spoke evenly, 'And Dean was standing out here, he would have freed you by now.'

My God, how true. Somehow, even against insurmountable odds, Dean would have indeed found a way.

'Sam, I can't even free myself. Don't listen to this. It is just the devil playing you.'

'Dean,' John smiled sympathetically at his eldest son's tight face. 'You always did deserve a better brother.'

'I'm happy with the one I got thanks.' Dean fought himself not to make eye contact with the illusion but by God if it didn't look as real as his own hand in front of him.

'Look at yourself.' Turning his full attention back to Sam, John shook his head, 'This is who you turned out to be? We both taught you better than this.'

'Sam,' Dean swallowed at the sight of his brother inhaling deeper breaths. 'Dad wouldn't say these things.'

'I always say these things Dean. At least to him I do. You forget. We never got along. He was always rebelling, always choosing the other way, never supporting us, not like we supported him.' He took a breath. 'He was always a bitter disappointment.' John stepped over to Dean. 'Not like you. You and me; we wanted the same things, had the same goals, wore the same clothes, drove the same car, listened to the same music. We were in sync. The only times we ever fought was when we fought about him. If he wasn't here-'

'If he wasn't here…' Within a split second Mary materialized by her husband's side and spoke directly to Dean, 'I would be.'

Sam glanced over to the devil sadly. Lucifer gazed back. 'Second favorite game.' He stated with a light shrug.

Dean Winchester concentrated. If he could push all this pain aside and lock it in a box storing it in the back of his mind he just might find a way to think. Burying all this suffering might not be the healthiest of processes, but if he could get through to Sam and stop him from sinking further into dangerous misery, he would deal with it later.

'Sammy, look at me and look at me only, okay?' Dean's spoke gently and it brought about compliance from his brother. 'That's not mom, this isn't dad.' He reassured. 'You remember how obsessed dad was about keeping you safe? Remember how hard he used to come down on me if I even left you for a second?'

'That was before I knew what he was.' John scorned while Mary nodded in agreement and Lucifer leant back against a tree crossing one foot over the other.

'And you know as well as I do our real mother would do exactly what she did over again to save you.'

Sam nodded, unconvinced. He flashed a small smile at his brother who was trying; who always tried, who never gave up on helping him. John…Fake-John was right. Dean really did deserve a better brother.

'Die Dean. She died for him.' Fake-John corrected. 'You can say it. God knows you think it enough.'

'I do not.' Dean frowned while Sam nodded again, this time fully convinced. 'Don't listen to this Sam,' He glared over at an amused Lucifer. 'This is just him messing with your mind.'

Or was it?

Intense thoughts and feelings crashed through Dean's mind like a twelve car pileup on a backed up highway. If even one was correct, they had a chance. If Sam could believe the mere suggestion and embrace the idea, freedom was possible.

'You know what Sam? You know what I'm thinking all of this is?'

'Hell?' Sam replied.

'Your hell.'

Sam nodded fully aware this was his hell. That eternal suffering which he feared the most now held the very real prospect of dragging Dean down with him. Nothing could be worse.

'No mine, not dad's, not mom's, not even Lucifer's. Yours.'

'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying these are your worst fears playing out, right?'

'Right.'

'So,' Dean offered a smile. 'What if you don't indulge them anymore? What if we think of all the positives instead?'

Sam scoffed, as did John and Lucifer.

'Name one.' Lucifer chimed with a smirk.

'All the people he has saved.'

'Or killed?'

Dean glared at Sam's devil, the devil that was nothing more than a creation in Sam's mind of that he was now sure and took a breath. 'Okay let's play a game.' He suggested right to his face. 'Your choice. A) The story of how Sam stopped the apocalypse, b) Why Sam is a hero or c) How Sam overtook the devil and sent his ass right back to hell?' Dean smirked. 'C is my own personal favorite.'

'That wasn't just me Dean.' Sam stepped in before Lucifer could string his brother back up and continue his cruelty for pure revenge.

'You took most of the hit Sam.' Dean shook his head. 'Go with me on this okay? Stop fighting it. Look at mom and dad and know the real ones would both die again to protect you, look at that son of a bitch and know you took control of him once and you can do it again, look at yourself and know you have strength in you Sam, you always had. You just have to bring it out again.'

He almost had him.

'Look at me and know all I want is for you to be okay.'

Sam bit the side of his left cheek.

'What do you prefer? Living like this? Hurting yourself?' Dean noticed the bars on his cage flickering. 'Or being strong again? Capable of taking control of your own mind?'

'You think this is…?'

'I think none of it is real and it's all the bad crap in your head. I think it's the wall but I think we can beat it.'

'How?'

'The same as how you've beat everything else.' The solution had to come from deep within Sam not handed to him by Dean.

'So, I'm intrigued Sam.' Lucifer mocked. 'What's it going to be? You think you can beat me again?'

'Yeah.' Sam concurred. 'I actually really do.'

Punching the devil over and over again invoked feelings of power, strength and utter satisfaction. It was all he had in a weapon-less world but it was enough because he chose for it to be enough. He could be a God here if he wished...and he wished.

He refused to stop until Dean was free of that cage and evil John and Mary disappeared. Until night returned to day, until the only tree he could see was the tree he smashed into in Bobby's truck. Until he could see Bobby's truck.

Until he woke up in the driver's seat, his brother by his side.

_(To be continued….) _


End file.
